


The safety in a dare (Ron/Draco)

by StoriesbyNessie



Series: The Safety in a dare and The Safety in being Enemies [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Humor, Gay Sex, Hogwarts, Humor, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Ron Weasley, Romance, Self-Acceptance, Triwizard Tournament, Underage Drinking, Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyNessie/pseuds/StoriesbyNessie
Summary: Tired of Draco's constant bragging- Blaise decides to dare the Malfoy heir in trying to get someone he thinks will be impossible. The redheaded, all-too-moody sidekick of the Boy Who Lived -Ron Weasley- is the chosen target. The light blond Slytherin secretly has a thing for the tall, freckled boy and loves a good challenge- but will he be able to pull it off without developing any real feelings?





	1. The Dare

It was late Friday night in the Slytherin common room. 

Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were all -somewhat sleepily- sitting together by the greenish, pleasant fireplace. Just until a half-hour ago- the Slytherin common room had been packed with students talking and laughing, but now everyone, except for the five friends, had gone to bed. 

A couple of hours before that, the Slytherins had enjoyed a particularly nice dinner in the Great Hall. Pansy laid outstretched on her belly in one of the green sofas- her head resting on the armrest. It was so tempting to nod off and the Slytherin girl longed for the bed that waited for her back in the dorm. 

However, it was hard _not _to hang around and listening to the pale blond, silver-eyed Draco Malfoy. He always had something interesting to tell. Out of everyone in their group- Malfoy was the one who did most of the talking. That might be because he often wasn’t patient enough to listen to anyone else but himself. None of them really minded. He always had the best stories. 

Right now though, the Slytherin was drawling about one of his latest conquests- A Ravenclaw girl he had managed to snake himself into just a few days ago. Pansy wrinkled her nose- it wasn’t exactly comfortable listening to the Malfoy’s stupid sex stories, but the boys snickered at the particularly graphical details- apart from Blaise who’d only rolled his eyes. Blaise was the one who’d been around the Quidditch pitch more than Draco had, so the boy wasn’t impressed, to say the least. Sighing heavily, he leaned forward in his seat, eyeing the Malfoy heir carefully with his dark eyes. 

“Really, Draco, a Ravenclaw?” He drawled. “That’s child’s play.” 

“And, Zabini, why is that?” Draco asked, leaning forward in his seat too. “Are you _jealous?” _

Blaise scoffed. “Of course not. I hardly think it’s something to boast about though. Not when you and I both know I could score that anytime. Really, it’s nothing special,_ Malfoy_.” 

Draco stroked his pointed chin with his right hand, eyes narrowing as he eyed the other boy studiously. Blaise raised his dark eyebrows- leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, putting his right foot on his left knee. 

“You know, sometimes I think you’re just all talk, Draco,” He said calmly, yet the tone of his voice was bordering on suppressed anger. “I listen to you every night go on and on about conquests and possessions- but we all know that’s just too-easy-to-get-rubbish anyway.” 

Pansy, who had followed the conversation with her eyes half-closed, now opened them fully and sat up to stay awake. Now, _this _was interesting. She’d never heard Blaise talk to the blond boy like that before. 

Draco, who suddenly sensed competition in the air- cocked his head, his gaze still fixed on the dark-skinned boy. 

“Is that so? Zabini, do you even realise who I am? I’m a Malfoy,” Draco drawled haughtily, gesturing to himself with one hand, “And Malfoys get _whatever _and _whoever _they want. I promise you, name _anything _and I shall prove my point to you, so you learn not to talk to me like that or my father will hear about this.” 

Blaise clicked his tongue. _“Anything?”_ He smirked. “You sure?” 

Malfoy just arched one skinny eyebrow in response. 

The oafish Crabbe and Goyle started sniggering as the air in the dark common room got tense. They knew something interesting was going to happen, although they couldn’t really figure out what. The tall, dark-skinned boy got something sly in his eyes as they drilled into Draco’s ice-cold grey ones. Pansy watched the scene with her own eyes wide in excitement too and full lips slightly parted. 

“Okay,” Zabini continued, looking thoughtfully up to the ceiling. “But I was thinking more along the lines of… _Who.” _

“Please, be my guest,” Draco smirked confidently. 

“Oh, it’s got to be someone interesting,” Pansy couldn’t help chiming in. 

“‘Course, darling,” Blaise smiled, shooting the Slytherin girl an amused look. “And…” He turned back to the blond. “Someone who’d be hard to get and doesn’t want to be with you _at all...” _

Draco crossed his arms defiantly. Crabbe and Goyle snickered. Blaise took a deep breath, Pansy held hers. Then he uttered the very words that made Draco Lucius Malfoy’s face fall; 

“How ‘bout… _Ron Weasley?” _

Crabbe and Goyle now lost it- laughing loudly as the thought of Draco doing inappropriate stuff with the plain, poor, redheaded and very much _male _Gryffindor left them with disturbing, funny pictures in their minds. However, they stopped instantly when the Malfoy heir scowled at them- clearly not amused by the situation. 

Blaise smirked. 

“You said _anyone…_What- do you want to back out?” He asked, wearing a nasty expression and relishing the fact that the silver-haired one suddenly didn’t look so self-assured anymore. 

Draco felt the four pairs of eyes watch him studiously and he knew he couldn’t back out with his dignity still intact. Instead, he sighed, ignoring the nervous stirs in his abdomen and simply asked; 

“Very well then, what do you have in mind, Blaise?” 

The tall boy leaned forward again. “I’m talking everything you’d do with a girl. Seduction, followed by hot, steamy-”

“Yes, yes I understand,” The blond interrupted, waving his hand impatiently. “No need to paint me a picture.” 

“... You can’t use love potions or by any means magic to trick the bloody fool into shagging you. It’s got to be authentic,” The other boy drawled, completely ignoring Malfoy’s disruptions. 

Pansy almost squealed, this was by far the sickest thing she’d ever heard. Normally, Malfoy wouldn’t touch a Gryffindor with a ten-foot pole. 

“I’m pretty sure Weasley’s a virgin,” She giggled, her hand covering her mouth. Blaise just grinned. 

“And how in the name of Salazar are you going to know when I’ve succeeded then?” Draco inquired, ignoring Pansy’s commentary and giggles. “Are you going to _watch _us? Never knew you were such a creep…” He still tried to maintain his calm, bored expression, not letting any emotion show on his face. 

“Of course not,” The other boy answered. He looked thoughtful again but Pansy, who took in the whole idea with both shock and wonder suddenly spoke; 

“Oh, you should mark him.” 

“Good point,” Blaise said smirking, obviously thinking the Malfoy heir wouldn’t go this far to prove a point. For once he was the one _winning. _

“Mark him,” He continued. “_However _you want. And if you don’t go through with this… Well, let’s just say your father won’t be able to get you out of this if you fail, shall we?” He got up to his feet, grinning maliciously. “Welcome to the big boys club, _Draco.”_


	2. The Keeper, Krum and a Malfoy

The happily unaware of what was about to happen, Ronald Weasley was alone at the Gryffindor table during breakfast the next day- reluctant to both stop eating and leave the table. His coppery eyebrows were furrowed, blue eyes defiantly staring down on the table and his wild, red hair in disarray. Draco, who was alone at the Slytherin table, sneered at the sight as he reckoned he had a pretty good feeling as to _why _the ginger-haired one refused to leave. He happened to know several things about the _Look-at-us-we’re-saving-the-world-we-crave-everyone’s-attention _Golden Trio. New, fresh updates that had been brought to the Slytherin’s attention. 

No doubt Blaise had only propositioned the idea of this challenge because he thought Draco would be so disgusted by the idea that he wouldn’t do it. And the Malfoy heir knew how much the other Slytherin _longed _for to have the upper hand. Blaise had always been jealous of Draco. No matter how hard he tried, Draco was the one who scored the prettiest girls, had the most expensive things, the nicest clothes and more money than anyone could possibly spend in a lifetime.

He snorted to himself. Zabini clearly did not know _anything._

He watched with amusement as Weasley was shovelling in yet another piece of bread into his large piehole, staring off at something in the distance. Seizing his chance, he got up to his feet and sauntered over to the Gryffindor table. 

~~~

Ron was angry. Or rather- angry was just the tip of the iceberg to what he was feeling. He was furious. And not so little either.

Bust most of all- he was hurt. 

Not that he was going to let anyone know that. No way. 

Ron couldn’t help feeling left out as both Harry and Hermione in a matter of weeks now were dating. It wouldn’t have bothered Ron so bloody much if it hadn’t had anything to do with _who_ their partners were. One would reckon they would show a bit of caution since it very much concerned Ron too. But of course, for starters, Harry and Ginny _had _to show off to everybody that they were now a couple. Ron was, to say the least, not exactly thrilled with having his best friend snog his baby sister. He’d rather not see Ginny snog anyone at all. In hindsight, Ron should’ve suspected this could happen, as Ginny had fancied Harry since her first year at Hogwarts. Harry had barely noticed her before, drooling over Cho Chang. But now when the Ravenclaw girl was taken- his best friend had somehow turned around and started fancying Ginny instead. Ron hadn’t expected this, Harry was so close with the Weasleys he basically felt like an extra brother to him. And he was certain Ginny would get over this whole Harry-thing sooner or later. Apparently, he had been so bloody wrong about it all, as his best mate was now shoving his tongue down Ginny's throat. He was angry with Harry for disrupting the balance. What if Harry hurt Ginny or made her sad? If Harry had been a random bloke- he would've for sure broken his nose if that was the case. But since Harry was, well _Harry_, and Ron still loved him as much as he loved all his siblings- this very much put him in a pickle. Thank Merlin nothing bad had happened yet. Well, apart from the whole snogging-thing. There was not enough soap in the world to wash away those disturbing images. 

The redhead told himself over and over in his mind he was the angriest about the whole Ginny and Harry-thing, because what Hermione had done hurt so fucking bad, he didn’t know what to do. Hermione wasn’t speaking to him anymore because of what had happened between them. Even though Ron had a hard time admitting this- it was partly his fault. He should’ve just told her the way it was. He had been too scared to do so, this was his secret. Not a soul knew, not even Harry. 

Hermione was dating Viktor Krum- world-famous quidditch player and Ron's favourite human in the entire world. He was only a few years older, but he had been Ron's idol since what felt like forever. He had collectable pictures and posters, he kept up to date with the latest news… Ron made sure to read, see and collect it all. Fred and George teased him mercilessly for this, but Ron didn't care. Viktor was everything. He had made Ron interested in quidditch and because of his hard training- he had recently made it into the Gryffindor team as a Keeper. It was something else too, as much as he had tried to deny it. He wanted to drown in Viktor Krum's mysterious dark eyes.

Viktor was the reason Ron had discovered he was gay. 

The minute it was announced Krum was going to compete in the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts- Ron had been thrilled. This had been his chance of meeting the Bulgarian boy and make a good impression. His face had quickly fallen during the first day when Vicky didn't notice him _at all _and later during dinner in the Great Hall he had basically knocked Ron over to reach Hermione. Since that unfortunate encounter, the Seeker had had all eyes on Hermione and none at Ron. Since Hermione didn’t know why Ron was acting like such an arse about her and Viktor’s relationship- she had been simply furious and they had possibly had the biggest fight throughout all of their friendship. To everyone else, it seemed Ron was angry because they thought he had an interest in the bushy-haired girl. He wondered to himself what they would all think if they knew how badly he wanted to trade places with Hermione and be the apple of Viktor's eye. 

~~~

“Hullo, Weasley,” Malfoy greeted casually, slumping down in the seat across from Ron as if he was not a Slytherin sitting down at the Gryffindor table.

Blue eyes eyed him suspiciously, but the boy said nothing.

”Alone again, are we Weasel?” Malfoy drawled. ”What, did Potter break up with you or something?”

The other boy sighed. ”What do you want Malfoy?” 

”Curious, isn’t it?” Draco continued, smirking. ”How you’re _always _on your own these days except, of course, when Potter needs you for some epic ’chosen one’ task, right?” 

”I’m not- that’s not true! I have friends,” the redhead objected so sourly Draco knew he’d hit a soft spot. He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

”Sure you do! Friends who don’t care the slightest about you anymore. We all know Potter’s off doing Merlin knows what with your baby sister and you must’ve been a complete bore to Granger- considering the fact she’s completely abandoned you for that world-famous quidditch player! Not that I blame her…” Draco said, quirking a delicate eyebrow. ”And…” He added in a lowered voice, leaning forward so only the Gryffindor would hear, ”I know how jealous you are- if I recall correctly you two share the same interest in men.” 

The redhead tensed and his face flushed so much it almost matched his flaming hair. _How did Malfoy… _

”I don’t know what you’re on about,” He said, his voice strained. ”But I want you to shut your ugly little ferret face.” 

Without a word more, the Keeper got on his feet and marched out of the Great Hall. 

~~~

Draco wanted to continue teasing, but it was something so delightful with watching Weasley stomp out of the hall, flushing all the way to the back of his neck. For a moment he could do nothing but sit there and take in the sight. His reactions never disappointed the blond- they were almost comical. Potter pissed Draco off to no end but teasing him was almost funnier than Weasley himself, as the redhead had some sort of protectiveness over the ‘Chosen one’. His hands balled into fists as if on cue whenever Draco was around, always prepared to step in and defend. He was like Potter’s obedient little dog. Draco merely had to drawl _‘Potter’ _in the corridor when he saw them and boom- Weasel was in fighting-mode. Furthermore, it was something so incredibly interesting with him in that position. Weasel was… _very hands-on_ to say the least. And Draco knew exactly how to rile him up enough to get him to put those big, freckled hands on his body. Well, maybe not in _that way_ but it was a start.

He smirked smugly in the direction where Ron had exited and got up to his feet. 

Once again, Draco was going to be the one _winning._


	3. The corridor on the third floor

Ron almost pushed two first-years away in frustration by the stairs as he left the Great Hall. Calling ‘Sorry!’ to them over his shoulder he continued with his quest of heading to, well, he didn't know where exactly. He briefly opted for going up to the Gryffindor tower- but quickly decided against it. The redhead remembered Harry and Ginny probably would be there and he still wanted to keep the breakfast in his stomach.

His steps were swift and angry as he moved upwards. He couldn’t believe Malfoy. How dared the bloody evil git talk to him like that!? How dared he insinuate… He clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. 

”Stupid prat,” He mumbled to himself, nearly tripping over his large feet as he bolted into a familiar, empty corridor. His wand fell out of his robe pocket, rolling away as he spun his arms madly to try to remain his balance. Cursing how clumsy he was, he reached down to pick it up when he spotted a pair of newly polished black shoes in front of him. Those could only belong to one person and the redhead growled inwardly at his remarkably bad luck. 

”Walking away from people is rude you know,” Malfoy drawled coolly, grey eyes drilling into the unfortunate Gryffindor. ”Especially amid a conversation." A wicked smile played on his lips and Ron tightened his fists, clutching his wand in one of them. He scowled- definitely not in the mood for whatever devious things the Slytherin now was up to. 

Draco felt bloody brilliant. Weasley was so predictable in his route around the castle the Slytherin wondered if he was even aware of it. He had noticed lately how the Weasel seemed particularly fond of using the third-floor corridors when wandering about. Not that he stalked him or anything. Knowing Weasley would probably end up here after breakfast, he had taken a shortcut and managed to be here before the redhead. 

Now glancing at the row of dusty old suits of armour that were displayed beside them, he began to understand why Weasley seemed to enjoy walking here. Luckily Malfoys were very good at having self-control, otherwise he would have laughed out loud. Achieving to remain calm and bored on the outside, he set his eyes on the other boy again. 

”I’ve come to notice you spend an awful lot of time in this particular corridor, Weasel.” He gestured to the suits of armour with a pale, skinny hand. ”By all means, I do understand why,” He continued earnestly, looking at Ron with sad, sympathetic eyes as if Ron was a beggar he approached on the streets. ”All this dust must make you feel right at home, isn’t that right Weasley? It’s so nice of them keeping this corridor so… _untidy _for you.” 

”Fuck you Malfoy,” Ron snarled, trying to push past the slender boy. Malfoy held up both of his hands, stopping him. 

”Don’t you _wish _you could?” Draco couldn’t stop the evil smirk from creeping up over his features, as he noticed how the redhead’s nostrils widened. It was clear Weasley began having trouble controlling the anger that was already flashing dangerously pink on his neck. _How fun. _

Ron decided he would say nothing. He would say nothing and do nothing. _Don’t let him get to you. Don’t… _He tried pushing past the Slytherin again, merely scowling at his pointed face. 

“Not so fast, Weasel,” the blond drawled, holding up his hands in the air for the second time as if that would keep Ron at bay. “I want to talk to you. Or are you so _poor _you can’t even afford a moment of your time these days now?” He grinned, making Ron only loathe him more. 

The redhead’s blue eyes were dark with anger as he stared down at the slightly shorter, skinnier boy- in his mind already punching the living daylights out of him. He knew he’d have the upper hand in a fair fight. It took most of his willpower not to lose it completely. _Say nothing and do nothing. Say nothing… Do nothing. _

Malfoy took a few steps back, looking cockier than ever. 

“I just want to know if it’s true, surely you can tell me that much.” He tilted his head, feeling the rush of adrenaline grow in his slender body. He knew it wouldn’t take much longer for Ron to lose it. All he needed was a simple push. 

“What?!” Ron finally bit out- not being able to stop himself. “I swear Malfoy, one word about my family again and I’ll--” His hand still held tightly to his wand. He had a new one, so a good hex wouldn’t backfire. He’d love to give Malfoy the slug-curse properly this time. Would serve him right. 

“That you like to play on the same team, Weasel,” The Slytherin smirked, cutting off Ron mid-sentence. 

Draco was very amused when Weasley knitted his coppery brows in confusion- obviously not quite catching what he had meant. _How daft could one be? _

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” The redhead said bitterly in a shaky, dark voice. “But if you don’t shut up-” He didn’t continue what he wanted to say, only pushing past the blond again and this time he let him. Weasley walked a few feet down the corridor when Draco shouted his last winning retort to the ginger-haired's back: 

“You’re a pouf, aren’t you Weasel? Tell me- what position does Krum have in your fantasies? Top or bottom?” Draco grinned widely as the Gryffindor stilled his feet. He tossed his wand and faced the Malfoy heir, his eyes in furious slits.

“I’m going to fucking murder you!” Ron roared as he lunged forward like a predator at his prey. In a matter of seconds, he had pushed the blond to the floor and straddled him. His advantage in weight kept the slimy git from being able to do much else than to lie there and take it. 

“I suppose bottom then.” Malfoy’s voice went wheezy as the redhead’s wide hands squeezed around his delicate neck. He still managed to blurt out stupid comments and grin maliciously. Ron’s anger flashed red and black before his eyes as he strangled the other one. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He screamed. “Shut your _fucking _mouth, evil ferret!” 

Weasley was fuming, his face redder than Draco had ever seen it before. His hands were warm and demanding around the Slytherin’s neck, his face distorted in pure wrath. 

_Glorious, _Draco thought to himself as his vision became hazy and sounds and smells started to disappear. The Gryffindor said or mouthed something Draco couldn’t hear. He made feeble attempts at pushing the other boy away and then… 

Weasley let go. Smells, sounds and his vision came back clear. Draco laughed madly at the rush it had given him, rolling side to side on the floor under Ron’s weight, gasping for air. His heart pounded so hard in his chest, it almost threatened to jump out of his ribcage.

The angry redhead grabbed the blond’s jaw with his hand tightly. 

“I fucking hate you.” His breath was hot and wet, a line of spittle hanging in the corner of his pink mouth. “Next time I’ll go all the way. Hear me? _All the way.” _

Ron got up to his feet, found his wand and stormed out cursing the other boy in his mind for letting him get to him. 

Blasphemous, evil bastard! 


	4. Heated Passion

“Wow. I mean. _Wow.” _

Blaise smirked at the mark forming on Draco’s thin throat. He had barely gotten into the common room before Zabini’s dark snake-like eyes spotted the purplish-pink bruises forming after the redhead’s beefy hands. The Malfoy heir had hoped he wouldn’t be there, that he would be alone, but he hadn’t been that lucky. 

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” He asked coldly as Blaise’s eyes skimmed over his neck, his tongue between his teeth in amusement. 

“The fuck have you done?” The dark-skinned boy wanted to know, his tall frame resting against one of the shiny wooden tables. “Been exploring the kinky?” 

“Please,” Draco said snidely. 

Pansy came out from the girl’s dorm and Blaise’s attention turned to her. He held out his arm, catching her as she walked by. She giggled as her back fell against the boy’s chest and the sight made the blond roll his eyes. Pansy was so easy. Zabini was the sleaziest young man Draco had ever known, watching him press himself against the Slytherin girl was rather unpleasant. 

“Darling,” Blaise drawled, his mouth against Pansy’s ear. “Draco’s got himself a rather nasty bruise.” 

The brown-haired girl’s eyes set on Draco’s neck, giggling again. It was high-pitched and annoying and only reminded the Malfoy heir of how much he despised her. She didn’t know of course, but he did. Absolutely _loathed_ her. Especially now. 

“Who’ve done _that _to you?” She leaned forward curiously, trying to take a better look. “It’s awfully large.” 

“Isn’t it?” The boy behind her agreed. “Either you’ve pissed someone off or you’ve been off doing some other dirty activity. Tell us, _Malfoy, _which is it?” 

“I’d rather keep that a mystery,” The blond sneered. He decided he’d had enough of them both and headed up to his dorm. 

Pansy turned around and faced Blaise once the Slytherin boy was out of earshot. 

“Dray’s bruises are too big to be the hands of a girl,” She mused, looking into the boy’s dark eyes with her own. She smiled, tracing the outline of his jaw with her thumb. 

“Indeed,” Blaise smirked. “D’you reckon…” 

Pansy nodded slyly. “Weasley…” 

“I hate him!” Ron yelled once inside the Gryffindor tower. Several curious heads turned to watch as the flushed and freckled redhead stormed in, interrupting the pleasant calmness. His eyes darted across the room to find Harry and Ginny sitting by a table playing chess. He frowned but was happy they at least didn’t snog. 

The bespectacled, jet-black-haired boy got up to his feet, quickly followed by the youngest Weasley who glanced worriedly at her brother. 

“Who, mate?” Harry asked, his bushy brows furrowed. “What’s the matter?” 

“Malfoy!” Ron bellowed so loudly, a few students began to snicker around them. They stopped or at least turned away when his blue eyes shot daggers, almost as if he was considering casting the killing curse on all of them. Ron was so angry his hands were shaking. He ran one of them furiously through his vivid hair, trying to control his breathing. 

“What happened?” Harry inquired warily, his emerald eyes scanning his best friend’s expression, trying to find some sort of clue to why he was so upset. Ron, who now fiercely scratched his nose, shook his head. “Forget it. Nothing. I just- I want to be alone.” 

He regretted opening his bloody mouth. It wasn’t as if he could blurt out ‘_Hi, Harry guess what? I’m gay and Malfoy somehow found out and he’s probably telling the whole school and did I tell you I’m in love with Hermione’s boyfriend?’. _Fucking Malfoy. The redhead was close to tears as he stormed off to the boy’s dorm. Ginny had tried patting him on the shoulder, but he had shaken her off. 

Both Harry and Ginny were familiar with Ron’s different moods and how angry he could get so they decided to leave him be. Once calm, maybe he would fill them in on what was going on. Harry had other more pressing matters to attend to anyway and decided to shrug it off for the time being. Malfoy was… Malfoy. Not much to say, really. 

Once alone in the dorm, Ron took off and dropped his robe and sweater on the floor, falling face down onto the soft, deep red bedspread of his four-poster bed. His heart thumped loudly in his chest and his ears were still red with anger, hate and… He hated to admit it. Fear. How the fuck did Malfoy know anyway, he had been bloody stealthy about it for Merlin’s sake! He’d never looked twice on another boy in school. Except for… Had he really been so obvious about Viktor? No, he hadn’t, had he? 

The redhead groaned into his pillow before turning to lie on his back instead. His hands still trembled slightly and ached from squeezing the Slytherin’s neck. Ron held them up in front of his eyes, opening and closing his fists. He had pressed so hard into the soft skin and in the heat of the moment, it had felt _so _good.

Like he wanted more. 

He _had _been wanting more. He had wanted Malfoy to stop talking. He had no right to that piece of information about Ron. It was supposed to be Ron’s calling whenever he was ready to let people know. Now Malfoy probably was going to get to everybody first. Announcing it in the Great Hall or some rubbish. 

Still though. 

He opened and closed his hands again, pressing his dirty nails into the palms of his hands. Then he pressed his fingers against his own throat, feeling his pulse throb under the touch. Firmly, the redhead let his fingers slowly slide to the back of his neck until his thumbs were pressed somewhere against his larynx. Carefully, he stroked either side of the throat with his thumbs until he spontaneously squeezed. Ron snapped his eyes shut, forcing himself to concentrate. 

He held his breath, not really daring to tighten the grip properly. 

_Bollocks, _he thought, letting go. It was useless. He didn’t have the power over himself. The passionate anger he had felt before was gone, too. 

He removed his hands. 

“Oh, don’t stare at me like that,” The Gryffindor snapped as Hedwig, Harry’s snowy owl, looked at him peculiarly from her cage. 

It wasn’t the same when he did it to himself. 

Draco lied on his back in his own Slytherin four-poster bed, looking up at the ceiling. The tender skin on his neck ached where Weasley’s hands had been. He put his tongue between his teeth, almost smiling as he thought back on the morning’s encounters. 

Draco lifted himself a little to the side, getting a silvery, shiny mirror out from the drawer in his bedside table. Watching his reflection in the mirror and tilting his head back a little, he ran his fingers over the bruises Weasley had left as a souvenir on the Malfoy heir’s throat. The Slytherin pressed one skinny finger against one of them and hissed a little at the pain. 

It was a rather nasty bruise. More purple and black now than the slightly pinkish tone it had had before. He could see Weasley’s marks where his fingers had been and the larger one of the palm of his hand. Draco was almost impressed, the kinda innocent Gryffindor had really outdone himself. _Fucking Weasley. _

Draco had no other intentions than to win this dare. Malfoys got what they wanted and he wanted Ron Weasley. He _needed _Ron Weasley. 

Weasel was a fighter. Naturally, Draco wouldn’t expect anything else from the feisty redhead. It was that burning passion in Weasley’s eyes that made all this so bloody fun. He was strangely attracted to that passion. Always had been, although being a Malfoy he refused to admit getting Ron angry sent pleasant chills down his spine and made his body ache with desire. He had managed to avoid getting hard in the heat of the moment and fancied it was because he was a Malfoy and Malfoys had incredible self-restraint. Afterwards though, alone with his thoughts- he could feel the need building up inside him and it happened he had found himself in a random loo stroking himself to the inner images of Weasley’s hands and angry face as the boy punched, grabbed and beat him moments before. It was exciting when it left bruises he eagerly touched and pinched while his other hand fiercely stroked up and down his length until he came, his mind fuzzy and reeling and his body warm and slack. 

The Slytherin would never let on any of this. Nobody knew. He was certainly not some pouf. His father would disown him in a heartbeat if he knew his son was ‘_attracted’_ to Arthur Weasley’s youngest boy.

No, Draco fancied girls. He never kept a girlfriend- it was boring. Instead, he took them to his bed or ended up in theirs. It had started getting dull though. The females he had bedded had never been into that heated passion he craved. They had wanted to cuddle, have _intimacy_. Some kind of slow-going pushing and pulling. Draco shuddered at the thought. 

Stupid freckled, male Weasel king. Ill-dressed and poor peasant. _Pauper._ Not to mention Weasley’s horrid values and opinions. Draco couldn’t believe the filth they let in at Hogwarts. The Slytherin also wanted him so _wretchedly _it ached. He wanted Ron’s hard, naked body pressed against his own in dirty, animalistic ways. And he meant to have him, win and wipe off Blaise’s smug expression off of his face. Nobody had to know he had _almost _considered it anyway. Almost. He was safe in this fucking challenge. Good fun and all that. 

Draco touched the bruise again and squeezed, reliving the redhead’s touch in his mind. No matter what it took, he was going to have what he wanted. One way or another. 


	5. A February treat

Two days later, Ron rested his chin in his cupped hand- trying to stay awake during what was a really boring lecture in History of Magic. Professor Binn’s voice made him drowsy. Half the class were asleep, but the old ghost took no notice and kept droning anyway, something about giants and war. Ron sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

On his right side, Hermione was eagerly writing away- her quill making scratchy noises as the tip of it touched the parchment. It looked like she was taking notes for the lecture, but on closer inspection, he noticed she was composing a letter to Viktor. He frowned. This was very un-Hermione. 

Of course, ever since his love interest had laid his dark eyes on the brunette-haired girl, Hermione had been acting rather strange. She wasn’t nearly as much reminding him nor Harry how they needed to do their homework anymore or take school seriously and she was giggling and flushing more, especially if somebody mentioned the Seeker in her presence. And it felt to Ron like people were doing that an awful lot. 

Ron opened his mouth to say something but remembered they still didn’t talk. When they _did _talk, however, he couldn’t stop himself from asking her when they were in the library some weeks ago why she kept writing those stupid letters and so frequently too. Couldn’t she manage without Viktor for like five seconds? Or rather, couldn’t Viktor manage without her? He was getting tired of seeing the fucking letters, all starting with _‘My dearest Hermione’, ‘My wonderful Hermione’, ‘My sweetest…’... _When he said that, anger in his strained voice, she had glared at him. 

_‘Just because you haven’t noticed I’m a girl, Ron, doesn’t mean nobody else has,’ _She had retorted in a voice full of poison. 

_‘What’s that supposed to mean!?’ _He had spat back, without really getting an answer from her. 

Viktor was very generous with sending gifts too. He sent Hermione books or small random presents from various places he went to on his Quidditch tour Ron had been looking forward to but hadn’t followed any of it since he was so upset. It was paining him greatly just standing there and watch. 

Ron wasn’t sure what he had been expecting either. That Krum would fall head over heels for him as he had done? 

_‘You’re nothing but the good, loyal friend, Ron. In fact, you’re so bloody loyal you let everybody screw you over all the time. Always has. You’ve never been anything compared to Harry, he’s the Boy who Lived, the person everybody admires… And Hermione, she has the brains, she always solves everything whilst you’re nothing, Ron. You just stand there and smile like the good, loyal little friend you are. You’re just another Weasley boy. That’s why Viktor didn’t notice you and why nobody would ever want you, 'cause you’re nothing.’ _His inner voice taunted, reminding him how pathetic and sad he truly was. He sighed heavily, rubbing his aching temples. When was this class supposed to be over anyway? 

A loud and firm knock on the door made the students who had been sleeping through the lecture to jerk awake. Professor McGonagall poked her head in through the door opening, interrupting the Professor’s monotone voice. 

“I apologise for barging in Professor Binns,” She said, waving a parchment roll in her right hand, “But I have some information to the students. It cannot wait, I’m afraid.” 

Ron scratched his head, confused. What in Merlin’s name was happening now? He exchanged baffled looks with Harry and their classmates looked around the room, equally confused. He was almost certain this meant bad news. Why else would McGonagall interrupt a lecture? 

The professor’s face gave nothing away, but she must have realised this was rather strange, as she smiled when she took her place by Professor Binn’s desk. 

“No need to look so worried,” She said in a light voice, rolling out the parchment and clearing her throat. “As you may know, Valentine’s day is quickly approaching. Instead of you going to Hogsmeade that weekend to enjoy yourselves, the school would like to treat all students to a Valentine’s ball. Every student may bring a date of their choosing and it can be somebody from another school if you wish. I’ve noticed some of you have been quite enjoying the company of our guest students when we had the first part of the Triwizard Tournament…” She smiled again and Ron noticed in the corner of his eye how Hermione’s cheeks turned rather pinkish. 

“Anyway…” The professor continued matter-of-factly, “I will leave a form for each of you where you can sign yourself and your chosen guest up for the ball and I expect you all to return them to me within a week. I hope as many of you as possible would like to attend. It will be a nice opportunity for us all to relax and… let our hair down before the tournament starts again.” 

Ron groaned as he watched his housemates' excited faces and heard their equally excited hummings as McGonagall went around handing out forms to everybody. Professor Binns dismissed them after that- nobody was concentrating on giants anymore, lesser now than before. Bloody brilliant, just what he needed. Another reminder that he was lonely. 

Hermione signed her and Viktor up right away, saying to Harry over Ron’s shoulder that Vicky was visiting her that weekend anyway. 

“I don’t think he’d mind,” She said brightly to Harry. “He was so good at dancing at the Yule Ball... “ She sighed happily, flushing a little while adding a heart next to the Seeker’s name on the form. 

_‘How lovely of you to remind us all,’ _Ron thought bitterly. 

“Well, I’m going to ask Gin if she wants to go,” Harry shrugged, eyeing the piece of parchment he had been given before putting it into his book for protection. “Ron, do you have anybody you’d like to take?” 

”I assume Ron could take his sour attitude,” Hermione replied before the redhead could open his mouth. She was still very upset with him and glared before stacking her books into a neat pile and shoving them into her satchel. 

”That’s just brilliant Hermione," Ron snapped, flipping his dingy satchel over his shoulder. His blue eyes shot daggers at her. "You're so charming, I can definitely understand why Viktor fancies you," He added sarcastically, scowling. "And no Harry, I don't have anybody I would like to go with." 

The bickering went on from there all the way to the Great Hall where lunch awaited them. Harry adjusted his spectacles, shrugging. He didn’t want to interfere as he reckoned it was a good thing they talked now. Still, he felt bad as he understood Ron would probably not find a date with such short notice. The Yule ball just two months ago was still very much fresh in his memory. He and Ron hadn’t found any dates in time and the whole evening had been a disaster. Ron had been upset all evening, staring angrily at Krum and Hermione and Harry had been jealous since Ginny had been dancing with Neville all night. It was crazy how so much could change in just a few weeks… He watched as his best mate put a vast amount of food onto his plate and decided that he should help Ron find a nice girl to go with. He didn’t want him to feel left out, after all. 

Plus, he needed a break from focusing on the rapidly approaching second task of the Triwizard Tournament. 

Yeah, he was determined he would find Ron a nice date, grinning in the redhead’s direction as he filled his own plate with food. 


	6. Don't you dare underestimate Draco Malfoy

Professor Snape’s potions classroom was dimly lit and the drawl from the teacher had been more than a little drowsing so far. Draco enjoyed Potions, but this particular Monday, the Slytherin’s head was somewhere else than in the room. 

Therefore, he hadn’t paid any attention to what kind of potion they were supposed to be making and was now desperately trying to follow whatever his classmates were doing. Despite his lacking performance during this particular morning, he was still confident- safe in the knowledge that he was the professor’s favourite student. He could afford not to follow along once in a while. 

Pansy leant forward over the worktable and eyed him with curiosity. 

”How’s it going with Weasel?” There was amusement playing in her light voice but she had the decency to keep it low to avoid unwanted attention. 

“Splendid,” Draco sneered, pulling the deep green cashmere scarf tighter around his neck. The bruises on his thin neck were still very visible and more people than necessary didn’t have to know about it. The scarf was a gift from Mother and he had never worn it before. 

“I spoke to Blaise yesterday.” She raised a skinny, dark eyebrow. “We reckon you should be given a time limit.” 

Draco’s mouth almost twitched into a smile. “It’s been two days, Pansy.” 

“Yes and we have decided you have until this Friday to complete the dare,” She said in a factual voice as she added powdered moonstone to the liquid in her cauldron. Draco did the same in his. “Blaise doesn’t think you’re gonna make it.” She stifled a laugh. “Neither do I.” 

The blond bore his stormy grey eyes into the Slytherin girl. They may doubt him now- but he was sure to see _he _was going to have the last laugh. 

“You underestimate me- I’m rather disappointed,” He drawled, silently wondering what Zabini would do to him if he did not succeed. He doubted the boy could do any harm to him. Draco had his father, his name held powers that Zabini did not have. 

He wasn’t particularly worried. But _not_ having Weasley under his body in a few days was out of the question, too. He needed some sort of plan. The pale Slytherin was good at manipulation and say and do the right things to steer people into situations they did not want to be in. He had done it a thousand times so he couldn’t understand why Pansy and Blaise seemed to think things would be different with the Weasel. 

Silence fell as they continued working on their potions. Draco glanced at Pansy once in a while and mimicked her movements to manage his own attempt of that kind of something they were supposed to be making. He mused over the Weasley-subject further as he stirred the liquid, that now had a purple hue. 

The Slytherin had two advantages in this very situation. For starters, he had figured out Weasley was gay. It hadn’t been very difficult. The redhead thought he was so secretive about it although everyone with working eyes could spot from miles away he had been rather enamoured with that… _Quidditch player._ Draco had come to dislike Krum as well as of late, not only because he fancied himself around mudbloods (the shame) but because the Slytherin wasn’t fond of how Krum got more attention than he did. It was like the whole school had been stunned the moment the Bulgarian boy had walked in. 

Second, since Weasley was so obvious with his little infatuation and was practically reeking with jealousy ever since Mudblood started going out with Krum- he was sure to be heartbroken and perhaps desperate. Draco had experience around heartbroken, devasted girls, he had ‘comforted’ a few in the past- what difference was it really? He now followed Pansy’s lead and added porcupine quills into his potion, stirring the liquid until it turned orange. Huh. The colour reminded him of freckles, blue eyes, prickling hot skin… _No, no he couldn’t think about that. _Self-restraint and patience. 

_Remember your place. _

Draco’s train of thoughts was interrupted by Snape’s sudden stirring around the classroom, walking about dropping what looked like a piece of parchment onto every worktable. 

“What’s this, professor?” A girl’s voice Draco wasn’t familiar with was heard, eyeing the paper and wrinkled her nose. 

“A school treat,” the Professor drawled, leaving a parchment on the Malfoy heir’s desk too. “Instead of going to Hogsmeade for Valentine’s day, the school will host a little ball. You are to use this form and sign up if you wish to… attend.” 

“You can take Weasley,” Pansy smirked, picking up her own paper. Draco let her little comment slip, shutting out the annoying girl’s voice. He snorted, this idea of entertainment was pathetic. The Slytherin felt like he had just recovered from the disastrous Yule ball. He had gone with Pansy and she had clung to his arm so tightly all evening he had been sure it was about to fall off by the end of the night. The whole event had been silly. Music had been too loud and too much and too weird for his liking, he had had better food and he had regretted deeply he had gone with Pansy of all eligible girls. The only slightly entertaining thing all night had been the looks on Weasley, who had spent the evening fuming so much, he alone added heat to the room. For Merlin’s sake, that anger could have lit a fire! 

No, Draco wasn’t very interested in this ball. The second task of the Triwizard Tournament was coming up too and he couldn’t wait to see Potter fail. Too bad he had survived the ordeal with the dragon but at least now Draco could enjoy continuing watching the ‘Chosen one’ make a fool out of himself once more. Saint Potter. Always craving attention. 

He stirred his potion once more and added a couple of other ingredients, still following Pansy, smiling to himself. Something rather nasty was beginning to take form in his mind. 

Before Friday, eh? Draco was going to make sure he’d have the Weasel where he wanted long before that.


	7. A rather nasty joke

“LOOK BEYOOOOOOND!” Professor Trelawney shrieked so suddenly both Ron and Harry slightly jumped in their seats. They exchanged bewildered looks and Ron blinked a few times, trying to refocus on reality. Both he and Harry had been busy in their own minds, daydreaming. To be honest, Ron had nearly fallen asleep, causing a few people to snicker around him when he very obviously seemed startled by Trelawney’s voice. 

“We should’ve just dropped the subject as Hermione did,” Harry commented when the bell finally rang and they had climbed down the ladder. 

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. His heart was still racing. Just before they were allowed to leave, the nutty professor had babbled something particularly deranged only to him about preventing dragons from flying and how Ron should stay brave. Harry had to look away- he had been nearly dying with laughter. It was a nice change from her usual predictions about Harry’s death and the look on Ron’s pale, freckled face had been priceless. 

“You okay, mate?” He asked, sniggering again. 

“Shut up, Harry.” The redhead wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. 

Blimey, it was warm at Trelawney’s. Thankfully, he had been able to leave his robes back in his dorm and only showed up in class in his white shirt. The professor didn’t care about if people showed up in full uniform or not, but other teachers (McGonagall) did so he reckoned he should walk by the Gryffindor tower and fetch them. Plus, unlike the Divinations classroom, the rest of the castle was rather cold during this time of the year. 

“I’ll see you in Transfiguration,” He said, waving the jet-black-haired boy off and headed in the opposite direction. 

“He’s coming now. Alone.” Crabbe and Goyle grinned almost as evilly as the young Malfoy heir did. They were creeping around the corner Weasley was about to turn- excitement filled their heavy-built bodies. Draco had them serve as lookouts as he had a rather nasty joke planned to get the redhead’s attention. They had eagerly volunteered without asking any questions. They knew Draco always had something _fun _planned and now that Weasley was getting closer, it was hard to keep the nervous laughter building up contained. Malfoy put a finger to his lips- shushing them. 

The grey-eyed Slytherin was leant against the wall, arms casually crossed over the chest. He smirked as Ron’s freckled face came into view. 

The Gryffindor realised too late he should’ve taken another route. His steps had been rushed and _out of all people _he had managed to walk straight into Draco bloody Malfoy and the two fat ones holding guard. He hadn’t walked into them either, he had _tripped _of all fucking things. He was sure it was the evil git who’d made him do it. Crabbe or Goyle had pushed him or something. Nonetheless, he was now lying on the floor, furious. 

“Better get used to crawling on the floor, Weasley,” Malfoy said, a wicked smile over his pointed face. “You’re going to need that when school’s over. Reckon you’ll be on the streets after Potter’s done with you.” 

With those words, he threw a shiny galleon that landed perfectly with a loud ‘clonk’ in front of Ron. 

“Better get used to that too, Weasel,” Draco drawled. “Taking money from passerby's- isn’t that how your family gets by?” 

The redhead lost it. If Weasley had looked angry last time they fought- it was nothing compared to how he looked now. He was _livid. _

Crabbe and Goyle were gone by the time the Gryffindor had leapt to his feet, losing interest in Malfoy’s teasings with Ron. The redhead was so flushed red Draco couldn't see any of the freckles on his face. In a matter of seconds, he was pinned under Ron's lanky frame, his whole body weight pressed against him. 

“Careful, Weasley,” The Slytherin warned, his voice tight, “You shouldn’t be so quick to touch me- don’t you realise what my father is capable of doing to people like you?” 

“I. Don’t. Care!” Ron growled between clenched teeth, shaking the blond boy so his head occasionally hit the hard floor. He shouted something Draco couldn’t quite comprehend about killing, bastard and die. Between shakings, he could make out Weasley’s widened nostrils as he inhaled and exhaled in short hot puffs, his bright blue eyes narrowed and the white eyelashes framing them… Everything was rather blurry, though, and his heart knocked about with such a force he was fearing it would jump up his throat or out of his body. His head hurt, he felt something wet in his hair. Blood? 

Still, though, excitement and the adrenaline from it filled his body as Weasley moved his hands to Draco’s skinny throat. Draco laughed, for some reason, although it sounded like a croak.

_“Shut up!” _Ron hissed darkly, his expression showing no mercy. 

“Make me!” Draco managed and Ron replied; “I will!” 

The Slytherin was quicker though. Draco might be skinny, but he wasn’t as weak as one would think. Before Weasley managed to squeeze around his throat again, he had heaved himself up to a half-sitting position. His pale, skinny hands pushed against Ron’s arms, nails digging into the skin through his tatty shirt. 

Draco, faster than the speed of light, abruptly leaned in closer, closer than he’d ever been, his soft lips pressed hard against Weasley’s pink, chapped ones before Ron could react. 

Time stood still. 

The redhead’s tight grip around his throat went lax, but he didn’t let go. 

Ron’s azure eyes widened in shock. One moment he was pressing the other boy down to the floor, about to strangle him in his fury. Next thing he knew, Malfoy somehow managed to sit up with Ron still on him and he was being kissed? 

K I S S E D?! 

That wasn’t what-like-shit-wait- _What in the bloody hell was that about?! _

Ron Weasley was so gobsmacked even his brain had a stutter. He desperately searched for some kind of logical explanation only to find none. 

“The hell?” He instead managed to blurt out, his face now reddening because of embarrassment rather than pure anger. 

“A kiss Weasley, I believe it’s called,” Malfoy said evenly, like him kissing Ron was somehow normal. Like they weren’t fighting mere seconds ago. The redhead was suddenly aware of how close he was to the other boy and he quickly got up to his feet. 

“What, never had one of those before?” Draco smirked, tilting his head. 

“Shut up!” Ron hissed, glaring. Malfoy looked so fucking pleased and the sight made him fuming again. 

“Well, consider it a favour, Weasel,” The Slytherin drawled, getting up to his feet too, standing eye to eye with the pale and freckled one. “Who else would want to do it with you?” 

Draco knew the redhead would give in any moment now. All he needed was a little push. 

Ron hated how he let Malfoy’s words get to him. _What if he was right?! _

“Then show me,” He said firmly, grabbing the blond’s shirt collar, pulling him closer. 

Draco grunted, almost pushing hard against the redhead’s warm body. His stomach fluttered- he was getting _his way _now. But they couldn’t do it out in the open. 

“Follow me, Weasley,” He demanded, shoving the boy into the nearest empty classroom. Locking the door one second, he immediately pushed Ron against a worktable the next, pressing his lips against the other in a feverish kiss. It was hot, wet and _glorious. _He bit the freckled one’s lower lip, his tongue running across to soothe the sting right after, relishing the small moan escaping Weasley’s mouth. It sent pleasant shivers down the Malfoy heir’s spine as his hands travelled down the Keeper’s back and up the naked, rough skin under his untucked shirt. His cold hands felt brilliant against the warm flesh. Draco dug his nails deeply into Ron’s back, making scratches.


	8. Something sweet I am denying

Ron hissed at the pain, digging his own hands into Malfoy’s light blond hair. It ran smoothly between his fingers, like silk. He pulled at it a little, not as rough as the other one- but hard enough. Mainly for taking revenge for having his back scratched. He heard the other one groan- maybe he did something right. 

Ron felt his hands leaving the Slytherin’s hair, feeling the back of his neck and travelling down his back, too. His skin tingled feeling Draco’s hands under his thin shirt, his cold fingers were like fire against his hot, freckled skin. 

Their tongues danced a fiery dance in each other's mouths, getting sloppier and more open-mouthed by the second. Yet, it was perfect. A strange, warm feeling was felt in the very pit of his stomach, sending shivers, butterflies, whatever it was all through his body. His tongue kept exploring, his hands kept touching and it was brilliant feeling someone return all this. But instead of Viktor Krum or anybody else really, it was Malfoy. Why did Malfoy want to do this with Ron?

He broke off the kiss, pushing the other boy away with more than a little regret. 

“Why do we do this?” Draco heard Weasley say, the other boy wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips were slightly swollen after Draco’s kissing treatment and his bright blue eyes were confused. It was _ridiculously_ cute- but the Slytherin wasn’t about to let Weasel know that. 

He was also a little annoyed the redhead had pulled away. 

“Because. Now shut up,” Draco replied coolly, leaning in again, this time to plant kisses along the other boy’s jaw. “Come on, Weasel,” He murmured against Ron’s hot ear, biting lightly at the earlobe, “Admit you’ve always liked to _touch me.” _He licked the shell of the redhead’s ear. 

Ron groaned. He didn’t want to admit it even to himself, but what Draco did to his ear and now biting and licking down his sensitive neck, felt so _fucking _good and sent pleasant tingles all over. His wicked tongue had left his warm, reddening ear wet and cold from the air in the room. He couldn’t help moaning as the other one sucked at the flushing skin. He decided he wouldn’t muse further over why Malfoy had decided to do this- maybe he just liked him. Or something. Ron wasn’t sure what he felt- his brain didn’t want to think about that now. All that counted was what felt good. He tugged on the boy’s robes, he wanted and _needed_ to feel skin. 

Draco was impatient- Ron was bloody slow and insecure. He dropped his robes, urging the redhead to get down on the floor. He straddled him, relishing how he was atop this time. He could feel Weasley’s maddingly beating heart. Draco unbuttoned his dingy shirt. 

“You have _far _too many clothes on, Weasley.” 

The redhead chuckled slightly, pulling the blond in for another kiss. His hands yanked the Slytherin’s shirt out of his trousers, his sweaty, wide hands now touching smooth skin for a few moments before pulling away to unbutton Draco’s shirt too from the top down. 

Draco, in return, sat up to run his hands over the Gryffindor’s now naked upper body. 

_‘The Quidditch training must do some good’ _he thought to himself, grey eyes scanning the area. Weasley was _well-defined _to say the very least. His abdomen was firm, his torso hairless, pale and splotched with tiny freckles. He bent down, sucking one of Ron’s pink nipples into his mouth. 

“Fuck!” He heard the redhead exclaim and he couldn’t help but smile around the tender areola. The Gryffindor was to his excitement very vocal and wriggled under him, responding in a positive way to the Malfoy heir’s touch. He kissed and bit at the other nipple too, hearing the redhead’s moans and random sounds once again. His erection strained against his black trousers as he kissed and licked down the other’s abdomen, biting here and there to leave his marks. Tiny bruises and lovebites formed after his teeth. Judging by the hardness he felt under him, Weasley seemed just as aroused as he was. The redhead giggled when he stuck his tongue into his belly button, sighing loudly and pulling hard at the blond’s hair. 

“You’re not bad for a blood-traitor,” He murmured softly against the buttons of Weasley’s greying trousers. He loosened the belt, unbuttoned and pulled them down to the boy’s hips. The sight of the fabric of the worn-out maroon boxers straining softly against the hardness underneath almost made him dizzy. 

Ron held his breath, his heart was about to hammer its way out of his chest. Malfoy’s mouth was hovering over his boxers and he whimpered as he felt the fabric leave to reveal his intimate parts. His swollen cock sprang out of its confines and it was all a little _too much _when he felt the Slytherin’s tongue running over the length. Ron’s hands went up to his face, to sort of hiding himself or whatever, his eyes snapped shut and his hips rocked slightly from side to side. His brain entered sensation overload as Malfoy without a warning made the head of his prick disappear into his mouth. Something rather blasphemous was happening when the Slytherin did something maddening with his tongue at the same time and he bit down on his swollen lower lip hard, to quell the ridiculous sounds that escaped from him. He failed, crying out. 

Draco held him still as best as he could with both of his hands placed firmly on the redhead’s skinny hips to prevent him from slamming against him. His stomach fluttered as he heard the moans and cries from the Gryffindor. It was a little weird giving a blowjob instead of receiving one, but he found out it wasn’t _too bad. _The precome didn’t taste as foul as he had feared, it actually didn’t taste much at all. He couldn’t take in the length all the way, but he tried to swallow as much as he could, his lips tightly closed around the heated flesh. The Malfoy heir didn’t want to do this for _too long _though as he reckoned (or rather knew, but he didn’t want to say it aloud) Weasley hadn’t received this kind of attention before and would probably not last very long. He sucked one last time, pulling away and sat up to watch Ron’s face. Something knotted in his stomach as he met _horny-as-fuck _blue eyes for a moment before the Gryffindor tackled him to the floor and kissed him wildly. 

Ron was gone. He kicked his trousers and boxers away, tossing them somewhere- the important thing was to get them out of the bloody way. His unbuttoned shirt had fallen down to reveal one freckled shoulder and his tie was hanging floppily and untied around his neck. It was his turn to straddle the other boy, wild, fast hands decided to remove Malfoy’s annoying shirt completely. 

His eyes fixed on the bruises on the Slytherin’s neck, his hand gently caressing the area. 

“I did this?” He asked breathless, although he didn’t really care about the answer. Everything was too hot, his heart was beating fast and he wanted to feel whatever Malfoy did again. 

Draco groaned impatiently. “Yes, yes,” He said, pulling Ron down to him by his shirt. “Now bite me, Weasley.” 

Ron licked Malfoy’s left ear, nibbling at his earlobe. “My name is Ron,” He whispered softly before nuzzling down the neck, inhaling the smell of snooty fragrance and something else that must have been distinct to the boy under him before complying and biting down hard at the bruises at Draco’s request. 

_“Fuck- yes!” _Draco exclaimed, panting as he grabbed the redhead’s firm, naked arse. Ron chuckled, kissing down the soft skin of Draco’s torso. The impatient blond was having none of this foreplay-shit anymore though, his cock felt painful still trapped in his trousers, he needed to get them off _right now. _His hand rubbed against the fabric over the swelling, almost desperately. 

Ron noticed, smiling as he moved his legs to sit next to the other boy instead. 

“Let me help you with that,” He offered and Draco almost wanted to smack him- yeah, about bloody _time. _The redhead’s hands were gentle as he removed both trousers and boxers in a matter of seconds, his eyes widened somewhat as he stared down the Slytherin’s hard prick. It felt like ages before he finally took the hard flesh in his freckled hand and pulled at it a few times, curiously watching as what he did was making Draco shiver and moan beside him. 

“Come,” Ron said, letting go of the other’s penis, urging the Slytherin to sit in his lap. Ron Weasley may be innocent and hadn’t done anything until this very moment, but he wasn’t so damn innocent as he was sure everybody thought. He had read stuff very, very secretively, but if you asked him he’d never let on. 

He kissed the other boy who seemed slightly confused, or perhaps Ron just imagined it, taking both of their erections in his large hand to pull at them both. The friction was delicious and an overwhelming, he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the emotions. His head fell forward against Malfoy’s chest as he stroked up and down, his breaths heavy and slightly uneven. After a few moments, he found a good rhythm, feeling the other’s hips push against his hand. The other hand snaked around the slender boy, holding him tightly against him. 

“Fuck, Weasley…” Draco groaned, not really knowing what to do with his own hands beside digging deeply into the vivid red hair and hold tight. He panted, writhed and bit his tongue. _By Salazar, _he was enjoying this. Probably a little _too much. _He had fantasied so long what it would be like having Weasley’s passionate hands on his body, imagined angry sex with lots of violence so he was completely caught off guard when everything with Ron in this situation was so sweet and _he was okay with it. _He watched Weasley’s pink-pale back, seeing the scratches he’d made earlier. He grunted, bit into the soft skin of the other’s neck. He loathed Ron Weasley, but somehow he was so fucking good with whatever he was doing. Fucking blood-traitor. 

“I hate you,” Draco hissed against the other’s ear, although he couldn’t help but wonder if he was lying. 

“And me you,” Ron grunted back, his voice seemed dark and otherworldly. 

“You’re a pouf,” The Slytherin declared, his hands moving all over the redhead’s back. 

Ron’s teeth grasped Draco’s chin, before biting into his soft throat again causing the Malfoy heir to whimper in distress. 

“Guess what, Malfoy,” He roared, voice muffled against his neck. “So are you.” 

His hand working between them sped up the movements and the Slytherin moaned aloud. Weasley’s words stung, he didn’t know what to make of them, he wanted to be raging or retort something back, but his mind was so muddled with lust and he needed to see Ron’s blue eyes or kiss him or both, he was so fucking close now-- 

He cupped the redhead’s face in his hands, his cold grey eyes looking deeply into azure ones. Something twitched inside him that had nothing to do with arousal and he shut it down like he always did. It didn’t stop him from kissing the Gryffindor passionately though and Draco whined against the other’s mouth as he came, hard and shivering all over. Weasley tumbled after, his breathing hot and short against the blond’s lips.

Silence filled the space and Ron realised he had probably missed Transfiguration class.


	9. After

_‘I won.’ _

Was Draco’s first thought afterwards. Still sat in Weasley’s lap, he felt surprisingly calm. He could feel both their heart rates slow down to normal. It was…_pleasant_ and he hated how it felt that way. 

His forehead was sweaty and his blond fringe had fallen forward over his eyes as he rested his head against the redhead’s shoulder. A little reluctant, Draco realised he should probably move. His previously warm body started to shiver as he felt the cool air of the classroom over his naked body and everything between them was _incredibly _sticky. 

He should get his wand. 

_‘I had sex with Draco Malfoy’ _was Ron’s first thought afterwards. Or rather, 

_‘Bloody fucking hell, I had sex, freely, with Draco Malfoy. Me! If Harry finds out, he’s gonna kill me. Holy fuck, I’m gonna go to a special kind of hell, aren’t I? The whole Gryffindor tower’s gonna laugh at me when they find out. Malfoy won’t keep his bloody trap shut, I bet--’ _

He groaned inwardly. He was fucked in more ways than one, for sure. How did they end up here anyway? Ron should’ve just punched the stupid prat while he had the chance. Instead, he had happily let Malfoy have his way with him. For Merlin’s sake, he had been all like _‘Kiss me Malfoy’ _like, like… _Why?! _

There was no logical explanation. Except, he had been so _bloody _desperate getting past his first kiss. It wasn’t fair both Harry, Hermione _and_ his little sister had all done it before him and that Hermione especially was allowed to do it with Vicky out of _all people. _Malfoy had seemed to want to kiss Ron for some strange reason and now here they were, naked and sticky in an empty classroom Ron didn’t know if he’d ever been in before. ‘Cause, of course, they couldn’t just kiss and be over and done with. They just _had _to go all the way. Ron couldn’t enjoy it because, a) Malfoy. b) This gotta be some kind of sick joke. c) What if Malfoy had diseases and now Ron had gotten them too? What if he _only_ wanted to do it just to purposely mess with Ron and/or possibly get him infected with something? It would’ve been so typical of Ron falling for something like that. So bloody naive. 

He made a promise to himself. This could never happen again. Ever. 

His body shuddered when Malfoy got up to his feet, got his wand and _scorgified _them both. The evidence of it all was gone and as Ron zipped up his trousers he made a definite vow of never mentioning this ever and never let any of this happen ever again. He fumbled irritably with his Gryffindor tie, he hated to tie those blasted things… 

Draco dressed in silence, his back turned away from the redhead. He focused solely on putting his clothes on, trying not to think about anything. If he started to think now… There’d be no end to it all. 

Malfoys didn’t think about the consequences. They took what they wanted and he had wanted Ron. He had gotten Ron, too. He was bloody good at hooking up with people. Blaise should’ve known better than to doubt him. _Fucking idiot. _

The only thing he should be allowed to worry over was the fact that Weasley probably had poor boy diseases he’d sure gotten now. He needed to shower badly. 

That weird attraction towards the other boy had ceased too. Or so Draco Malfoy forced himself to think. But if you asked him about it, he’d never let on anything. He’d just put up that same old sneer he’d been wearing as a safety-belt since childhood. 

When Draco was done and about to leave, he watched with amusement as Weasley struggled with his tie. It was clear he didn’t know how to tie it properly and it was rather amusing. How daft was he, seriously?! It was infuriating to watch as Weasley gave up and simply hung it around his neck untied again, just like it had been during sex. 

Draco Malfoy was a young man with class and a fashion sense- unlike the ill-dressed pauper in front of him. He may have a shoddy uniform but for Heaven’s sake… 

Draco cursed inwardly as he realised he _cared. Fucking Weasley. _

“You look ridiculous,” The Slytherin snapped, pointing to Ron’s tie. “Why’re you not tying it?” 

Ron mumbled something inaudible, feeling his freckled cheeks grow hot and red with embarrassment. 

“What’s that?” 

“I don’t know how!” Ron whisper shouted, his voice fretful. 

He saw Malfoy roll his eyes, which made him flush even more. 

“You don’t know? You literally wear it every day. I mean, we all do. How did you manage _not _to learn!?” 

“I never untie mine…”

The redhead’s eyes grew wide as Malfoy said something about ‘pathetic, useless Gryffindor’ as he took a few steps towards Ron and the blue-eyed boy felt his mouth go dry. 

“You have to untie it when you’re not using it,” Malfoy mumbled while he grabbed the silky fabric of Ron’s tie and put it more nicely around his neck, sticking it under his shirt collar. “It’s not good for it to be tied all the time.” Then he began knotting it for him, his slim fingers working carefully but fast. In a few short moments, he had managed to transform the sad-looking fabric into a neat tie. “You should really learn how to do this, Weasley.” 

Ron nodded silently. 

“Thanks…” He said in a lowered voice. Ron then stared down Malfoy’s neck, what he could see of it from his neatly buttoned shirt. The left side of the throat was dangerously purple-coloured. Had he done that? Yeah, he must’ve… Wait, did he have bruises too? Merlin, he must head back to the safety of the Gryffindor tower fast so he could examine the damage. 

“Er…” He opened his mouth to say something more- then deciding against it. Quickly nodding at the Slytherin and feeling stupid for it, he walked awkwardly out the door and ran as fast as he could all the way to the Gryffindor common room. 

Draco leaned against a worktable, both his hands squeezing the edges of it. Grey eyes closed for a moment before snapping open again. When he left this very room, he was going to go back to his usual state. He didn’t like this overthinking version of himself. The one who was _weak. _He loathed weakness. And the sweet moments they had shared earlier was a little _too… _sappy. Ew. He shook his head. 

A malicious grin went across his features. He had taken Weasley’s virginity. He had gone places nobody had gone with that bloody nuisance before and that the redhead probably was regretting it by now was weirdly satisfying. He had something he could torment that pouf with. 

_And. He had won. _

“You missed McGonagall’s lesson, mate,” Harry pointed out two hours later. “Where did you run off to after Divinations? Did something happen?” 

“Uh…” Ron scratched his wet hair. They were heading down to dinner in the Great Hall. 

The moment the redhead had tumbled out from the portrait hole inside the Gryffindor tower- he had been heading for the boys’ showers like there was no tomorrow. He had then spent a long time scrubbing his body and to his dread noticed a variety of hickeys and marks from the Slytherin’s teeth all over the front of his body- not to mention all the shallow scars on his pale pink back when he examined himself in the mirror. He had one rather large hickey on his neck too causing Ron to near whimper at the sight. He couldn’t show himself like this! People would be curious and ask questions! Let alone tease him to no end! That’s why he was now wrapped up in his red and gold scarf too- he wished he could hide in it. 

“And what’s with the scarf?” Harry asked amused, leering at Ron. “Is there anything you’re not telling me?” 

The freckled boy scowled. 

“I have a sore throat,” He said petulantly as he slumped down in his chair. “I didn’t go to class because, I uh, am not feeling very well.” There. Ron punctuated this by nodding his head frantically at his words. 

“Uh-huh.” Harry eyed his best friend suspiciously - Ron was acting strange. Something wasn’t right, he’d been just fine back in Divinations… He shook his head, helping himself to some chicken and mashed potatoes. He had a lot to think about. He needed to prepare for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, get a Valentine’s gift for Ginny and find Ron a ball date. Darting his eyes across the room, he realised this might be a more challenging task than he’d expected. Ron hadn’t really enjoyed the Yule ball so asking the wrong girl could be devastating. Harry wanted Ron happy this time. 

The spectacled boy’s eyes accidentally fell on the Slytherin table- Draco Malfoy looked particularly smug and haughty tonight. Harry frowned as the mean Slytherin noticed him staring and seconds later, Harry’s emerald eyes fell on Ron sinking so low in his chair beside him, he almost disappeared under the table. His face was closely resembling a beetroot in colour. He had dipped his scarf in the mashed potatoes in the process too so Hermione shot him annoyed looks over her plate. 

The Slytherins roared with laughter and Harry helped his best mate up to his chair again, patting him helplessly on the arm. Strange, but the spectacled one shrugged it off. 

Malfoy was Malfoy, after all. 


	10. When Slytherins talk

Pansy Parkinson pushed a tendril of her dark brown hair away from her forehead and rolled her eyes as she heard Crabbe and Goyle snigger at something by the fireplace. For every other student’s eyes in the Slytherin common room, they were completely in a world of their own. She adjusted herself a little in her seat by one of the dark shiny tables and was about to return to her Potions essay when she picked up words like _‘Weasley’,‘Malfoy’ _and _‘plans’ _followed by a vast amount of laughter from the two of them. 

The Slytherin girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously. It wasn’t anything unusual with Dray playing tricks on other people, especially not Potter or friends of his. But something was different, considering... A tiny smirk seemed to find its own way to her lips. 

_No way. _

She figured something was up when he hadn’t shown during the afternoon’s lessons. If Dray really had… done what she thought he had- it was definitely a new form of disgusting. Pansy shook her head disbelievingly, but the smirk was still there. Blaise was going to _freak _when he heard this. It was only Wednesday too. 

So Dray really pushed his limits to prove a point. 

In the Slytherin boys’ bathroom- Draco examined his throat and ascertained that the bruises were _much worse. _Weasley hadn’t really pushed back when biting down the already sensitive skin and without Draco realising it- it had started bleeding a little. 

He also had a headache. There was a small wound there too, in the back of his head. Probably from earlier when the redhead had banged his head against the stone floor. He had ignored that in favour of the more... _important_ events that had followed after. 

When he returned to the common room both Blaise and Pansy looked at him like they were up to something. Or on something, he wasn’t sure. 

“What?” He quirked a delicate eyebrow. “Have you two finally slept together? About bloody time, I’d say…” 

Pansy scrunched up her nose in disgust. “No.” 

Blaise leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest and a evil grin on his face. 

“_Did you,_ Malfoy? I mean, was there any special reason you disturbed a certain redheaded Gryffindor today?” He tilted his head. 

The blond smirked back. Of course, he wasn’t stupid. He had only told Crabbe and Goyle he wanted to play a little trick on Weasel and needed them to keep an eye out for him. They didn’t need to know anything else and he knew they would laugh about it afterwards. They _always _did. Contrary to popular belief, the two heavy-built Slytherins were not Draco’s friends. He considered them his henchmen, if anything. Come to think of it- the Malfoy heir wondered if he truly had any real friends. He got along with Pansy and Zabini just fine, but friends…? 

“Since when don’t I?” He said, sauntering over to sit in a chair across from them. “If I recall correctly you don’t mind doing so either…” 

“Oh, comments about mudbloods and the boy who thinks he’s the saviour of the wizarding world don’t count,” the dark-skinned boy drawled, raising an eyebrow too. 

“You weren’t in class today,” Pansy chimed in. “What happened, Dray?” 

“Are you out of the pouf-closet?” Blaise added, making no effort to hide his amusement. 

Draco examined his nails. Blaise was a fucking idiot and everything with him bothered the grey-eyed blond. Especially that nasty grin of his. Draco remained stone-faced, putting on a bored look. “Maybe. You jealous, Zabini?” 

The other Slytherin snorted. “‘Course not.” 

“In any case…” Draco continued casually. “I’m sure I don’t need to explain myself since the looks on both your faces reveal you’ve already guessed what I’ve been preoccupied with. Odd, but…” He nodded in the direction of Crabbe and Goyle, who were now eating cupcakes by the fire and still snickering, “considering those two still laugh about my little trick, it’s not difficult putting two and two together. Especially since I was gone so long, too. Even a man with your amount of brain cells could figure that one out, Zabini.” 

Blaise scoffed while Pansy’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. She let out a little squeal, her jaw dropping. She couldn’t believe Dray. How sick was he? 

“So did you do Weasley then? Dear God. How was he?” She leaned over the table, resting her arms on the wooden surface and cupped her head in her hands. She looked like a desperate school girl in need of good gossip. 

“Careful, before you drool all over the table, Pansy,” Draco smirked. “Regardless, it was boring. Over in thirty seconds, really. Besides, I’m surprised you both seem to completely missed out about Weasley’s little cock-obsession. Not little in _that _sense…” He said, glaring at the Zabini boy who snickered, “Apparently he’s some kind of queer. The fact that you missed out on that is beyond me. But… Once again, I prove you wrong, Zabini. What did you say last week? Too-easy-to-get-rubbish? Please,” He finished snidely. 

The dark-skinned boy looked a little less smug now, Draco thought. But of course, being a Slytherin, he couldn’t let the Malfoy heir truly bask in the glory of winning- at least not without a venomous retort. 

“Well, it _was_ too easy, wasn’t it? Here I thought Weasley would be a challenge, yet now you claim he plays on the boys' team. Your victory should hardly count, Malfoy.” The overlooked Zabini’s last words. He was just jealous. Always had been, despite what he said. 

Pansy thought the whole idea was disgusting, she hadn’t believed Draco would _really _go there. To be fair, she knew Blaise really hadn’t believed it either, yet here Dray was to prove them different. Finally, she understood some of the joy the boys seemed to get out of sharing conquests with one another. Sitting up straighter in her seat, she fixed her dark eyes on the Malfoy heir, twirling a lock of her hair around her index finger. 

“Well none of us pays so much attention to Weasel as you seem to do, that’s why we wouldn’t know” She smirked, earning a grin from Blaise in return, “You did mark him right? _He_ certainly marked you…” She eyed his bruises on his throat and Draco realised he hadn’t bothered covering them up. Who cares now that they both knew anyway… 

Draco leaned back in his seat. It was almost time for dinner now. Pansy’s remark about him looking too much at Weasley stung a little. A tiny bit. It was insulting she thought that. It was not at all true. He was truly shocked not more people knew about the redhead’s secret. Although, considering Zabini now knew- people would soon find out anyway. That snake could talk. Pansy wasn’t so bad either. Brushing the comment off and keeping whatever stirring feelings distanced, he simply replied; 

“Well… I’ll be sure to let both of you know this is true when it’s time for dinner. I have Weasley’s virginity.” 

Blaise chuckled, clicking his tongue. Draco had always been the weirdest Malfoy. Perhaps this had been too easy for a challenge, yet entertaining enough though, this whole thing… 

“Well, congratulations, Malfoy…” He said sarcastically. “Enjoy your rashes later.” 

The blond Slytherin watched as Weasley snapped at dinner sometime later on. He couldn’t quite hear what he told Scarhead over the chattering from other students, but the freckled one was nervous, anxious eyes and comically done gestures to prove his point. By the looks of it and how annoyingly curious Potter was- the Malfoy heir reckoned he had asked about Weasley’s previous whereabouts or possibly the scarf or something. That ghastly Gryffindor scarf! How amusing he had that on! Draco wasn’t too sure if he had managed to mark him properly or not, surely he had left some markings on his body, but that wasn’t visible under clothes so that hardly counted. Considering the scarf, something wicked must be going on underneath. He rested his icy irises on the redhead. Ron had flushed cheeks and refused to look up from his plate. He shovelled in the food in his mouth like a troll. 

Draco scoffed. With so many children living in that pigsty the Weasleys called home- it’s no wonder the boy had bad table manners. 

Something stirred inside the Malfoy for a brief moment. Damn, he couldn’t help it. Ron had one elbow propped up on the table, resting his head in his hand as the other hand held the fork. His hair was wet and he hadn’t dried it properly so some of it was still dripping. His vivid red fringe hung over his eyes. Draco reckoned he too had showered afterwards. 

It was crazy how the two of them shared this experience together. It linked them together despite whatever they individually thought about it. Luckily, Draco was so good at hiding emotions, no blush was shown (he’d like to think Malfoys aren’t able to blush though) on his pale cheeks when he came to the realisation that despite his poor manners, Ron was cute. That wasn’t good. He had always had a thing for his rollercoaster temper, but cute? 

  
Draco decided this was crazy talk. His mind was playing him tricks. Everything in his world since he became a hormonal teenager was about physical attraction and when it was over, it was over. No strings attached, no looking back. He had never thought such things before after shagging someone. Usually, they were all used up and ugly then. Especially when the very much forbidden fire-whiskey Blaise always smuggled into the school wore off. And the lights turned on. 

Pansy nudged Draco on the arm- interrupting his brainwork. 

“Go on,” She urged. “Do something, don’t just stare at him. Prove it to us that what you’re saying is true.” 

The blond glared at her. She had no business noticing where he chose to rest his eyes. His eyes went from one side to the other. Pansy had indeed gossiped in the common room, so there were a lot more expecting Slytherins than just Blaise and Pansy now. Crabbe and Goyle had also caught on to the news and was now snickering harder than ever;

_‘Weasley’s male… Malfoy shagged another boy…’ _followed by red-faced waves of laughter. Especially Goyle was practically crying at this point. 

_‘Very well, then’ _Draco thought. They expected a show and a show was what they were going to get. 

He looked at the Gryffindor table again, meeting eyes with _Potter. _Useless, stupid Potter. Why was he looking… The blond tensed, Merlin, how he _despised _Potter. He couldn’t figure out who was worse. Him or Mudblood, who seemed far too busy scolding Weasley about his eating habits now. 

The freckled one looked over at the Slytherin table too and to Malfoy’s luck- meeting eyes with him at exactly the right moment as Potter looked away. Draco smiled, winking at the redhead. A simple gesture, but it was enough for the Gryffindor. He turned bright red and sunk so low in his seat he dipped his scarf in the mashed potatoes. Almost as if he thought he could disappear through the floor. 

But no, Ronnie couldn’t disappear anywhere now. He was caught in Malfoy’s mousetrap. 

Draco laughed along with his housemates. The whole, long table seemed to move from the vibrations. Some Slytherins had broken out in laughter without really realising why. He watched in amusement as Scarhead helped the redhead up to his seat again. Weasley really did have the funniest reactions to the simplest of things. So inconsistent, too. 


	11. Harry Potter and the bright ideas

Ron had successfully avoided Draco Malfoy for seven days straight. He was really proud, actually. Of course, apart from classes they had together and the meals in the Great Hall where he was kind of forced breathing the same air as the evil git- he had managed to stay out of the other’s field of vision and avoided getting teased or tormented for a whole week. 

Although, as much as he had enjoyed it, congratulating himself even- something was bothering him a great deal. He didn’t know if it was just his imagination or not- but it seemed as though people were sort of, whispering and snickering whenever they saw him. It made him all sorts of anxious and sweaty. Angry, too. 

The bloody prat probably basked in all of this _fucking _glory and had done so all week. Ron was sure. Probably told every Slytherin in the existence how easy it had been getting him stripped off of his clothes and naked and (_unwillingly_, mind you!) hard and contributing to activities he’d _never _choose if he was given a choice, which by the way, he didn’t think he had. The bastard had made him! Allured him like the vicious snake he was. Without realising it, the Gryffindor crossed his arms defiantly from his table in the corner of the quiet library. He was hoping to get his essay done for Potions class, but his train of thoughts had suddenly left him in a bad mood. He was pouting vigorously. 

Draco had successfully stalked Weasel for seven days straight without the redhead noticing anything. Naturally, every fibre in his body had itched with want to tease the other, but he had managed to keep away. He had damn good self-restraint. A natural gift with being a Malfoy so he did _not_ congratulate himself for it. 

However, there had been a perfectly good reason for the blond to keep his grey eyes on Ron this week. If it wasn’t because of said reason, he’d never spend so much time following the oblivious redhead around without once trying to harass him. 

And that very reason’s name was Blaise Zabini. 

Blaise was the very definition of sleaze and sin. Now, Draco might not be perfect in that sense, he knew very well he could play dirty but his housemate was far worse. And given the fact the other boy always seemed to be rather envious of Draco’s achievements and sometimes ogled lustfully in his conquests directions- he feared the Slytherin would attempt to get close with Ron. He may scoff and snort at Draco’s accomplishments in his presence but Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew what strange thoughts the Zabini boy could get on his brain without warning and if he as much as breathed in the redhead’s direction- Draco would hex him and teach him a lesson. So he had been watching almost every movement Ron had made this week. So far it hadn’t been very interesting. Draco had watched him study in the library (which mostly involved the redhead puffing up his cheeks, sighing heavily and whisper complaints to Potter), walk around in the castle (still the same paths, still the same boring third floor corridor, Draco was sure Weasley had some sort of problem), watched his Quidditch practise and even spotted him eating chocolate frogs and getting excited about the cards inside the boxes when he thought nobody was around. Like he was some kind of child. Draco had sneered when he saw that, even though somewhere in the back of his mind he thought the happy expression on Ron’s pale face had been so adorable. He remembered how he had looked a week ago, in that classroom, he had been so close Draco could’ve counted every freckle if he wanted to… Ron’s lips on his, Ron’s warm tongue inside his mouth… Images and thoughts he shouldn’t think about that he often found snaked their way inside his head anyway… _Damn Weasel. _

“Hi,” Said Harry, sitting down across from the pouting Ron and dropping his books on the table with a loud ‘clonk’. He frowned when he saw the scowl on his best friend. “Something’s wrong?” 

_‘Oh yes,’ _Ron thought but kept shut. 

“Just this bloody essay,” He muttered, gesturing to the piece of parchment laying in front of him. He had only written two sentences down and then spent the rest of the hour he’d been here fuming over Malfoy. 

Harry made a face. “Ugh. Haven’t even started that one.” 

_‘Of course you haven’t. You’ve been too busy devouring my sister’s mouth, haven’t you.’ _Ron thought bitterly. 

“You know…” Harry continued warily, “If you’d patch things up with Hermione I’m sure--” 

“What!” Snapped Ron, looking sourer than ever. “You don’t think I can do my own damn homework, do you? Thanks, mate.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Harry sighed. “I- Look. I’m sorry.” The spectacled one pressed his lips together, trying a different approach. Harry wasn’t here to argue. He had something to tell. 

“I’ve got something that can cheer you up,” He said instead. “Saturday’s Valentine’s day. The ball, remember?” 

Did Ron remember! Of course he fucking remembered. And of course it still only served as a reminder that he would be spending that night very much alone in the Gryffindor common room challenging himself to Wizard’s chess, eat too many sweets and probably very secretly crying before going to sleep while Harry, Hermione, bloody Viktor and Ginny would all be down in the Great Hall having the time of their lives. He wasn’t going because he refused to be alone, sticking out like a sore thumb among all the couples and quite literally too as his only fancy outfit was the hideous thing he’d been sent for the Yule Ball and he most certainly wasn’t wearing _that _again. That ugly thing belonged in the fireplace. Maybe he should throw it in there. Maybe he should throw all of the pictures he’d been collecting of Vicky for several years in there too. 

Ron felt his skin prickle with anger and hurt. 

“Yeah, I’m not going,” He said in a voice full of poison. 

Harry grinned so widely it should have been illegal at that. 

“Oh yes, you are!” He proclaimed in a proud voice. “We’re all going and it wouldn’t be right without you.” 

“Harry…” Ron groaned. “I haven’t even handed in the form. I can’t go. And I don’t want to, I don’t have a--” But his best friend just waved him off with his hand. 

“Got that taken cared of,” He said, green eyes glistening and Ron wondered if he should panic or not. A nervous feeling hit him like a bludger right in the stomach. What the hell was Harry up to? 

“I knew you wouldn’t hand in your form,” The jet-black-haired boy explained. “I took it and did it for you. You’re going. You can borrow my robes from Yule, I’ve got new ones anyway…” Harry added shyly, blushing a little at that. Since he was a Triwizard champion he had been receiving new ones as a gift. “We can put a spell on it so it’ll fit you. And the best part? I found you a date.” 

The redheaded Gryffindor gaped at Harry as though he was speaking parseltongue again. Taking in the words slowly, he tried to make out the things coming from Harry’s mouth. A part of Ron wanted to be angry at Harry too for going behind his back like that and doing things without his consent. But another part couldn’t be mad at him for going through all this trouble. But! Still! Ron had wanted a saying in this. And what the bloody hell did he mean by date?! 

“Date?!” The Keeper whimpered uselessly. “What date?” 

Harry smirked, raising one bushy dark eyebrow. “Oh, it’s a surprise! But don’t worry, I’m sure you two are going to get along just fine. You’ll see on Saturday.” He winked at him and Ron frowned, silently praying it wasn’t someone Harry paid or something. Who would freely go with him? Since Harry did not know Ron fancied other blokes he reckoned he had found him some kind of girl. 

Ron was sure this was a bad idea. He did not really want to go with a girl. He didn’t understand them. They were all nutters. 

But Harry looked so content Ron found himself smiling back instead of telling him. 

And that was it, really. 

Draco snorted from his secret corner in the library. Stupid Potter. He couldn’t believe how daft he was to completely missed out about Weasley’s sexual preference. Was he really the only one who paid attention? 

Weasley eventually got up to his feet and left the library- Potter in tow. Waiting a few moments- Draco did the same. 

Ron headed into the boys’ loo before going back to the Gryffindor tower. Harry had gone ahead already. It was getting late and Ron was damn tired and longed for his bed. After tending to his business in one of the cubicles he swung the door open a little too recklessly and a moment later his blue eyes were fixed in someone’s brown. A certain someone with dark, smooth skin, chocolate brown eyes, black hair and a grin so malicious Ron almost flinched. A someone with a pristine Slytherin uniform and wasn’t Draco Malfoy. 

Blaise leant his hand against the cubicle door beside the one Ron had gotten out of. The redhead stared, trying to figure out where the hell he had seen him before. He was a Slytherin, yeah, but other than that… One of Malfoy’s friends? 

“Hullo, Weasel,” the dark-skinned drawled. 

“Hey,” Ron muttered in a low voice, pushing past him to get to the main doors and out of the bloody way. The Slytherin gazed at him so strangely, almost _hungrily. _It made him incredibly nervous let alone uncomfortable. He gulped. 

Blaise Zabini knew he was a creep. He really didn’t care. All week he had a hunch the Malfoy was up to something- he had been following Weasel everywhere he went like he was fucking obsessed. Blaise licked his lips, dark eyes scanning the Gryffindor from the top down. He watched Weasley’s comically anxious eyes as Blaise calmly pushed his other arm against Weasley’s right shoulder, pinning him to the door of the cubicle. 

Blaise may have propositioned the dare with the intention of hoping to see Draco fail. He apparently hadn’t and now Zabini was curious what was so special about Scarhead’s trustworthy sidekick. 

_And why should Malfoy be the only one who had all the fun? _

Still grinning, he took away his hand from the door, instead, letting it slide over the other boy’s sternum over the soft fabric of his tatty sweater. 

“I know what you and Draco did together,” Blaise smirked, leaning in closer to Ron. “And I also know what you are. So here’s what I want. You let me have my way with you or I’m telling everybody about your little secret…” 

Ron blinked, his heart beating fast. The hell? It was definitely one of Malfoy’s friends and he was acting really fucking creepy. The hand caressing his chest felt uncomfortable and plain weird. He wanted to be livid, why couldn’t he be when he so desperately needed so? Instead, he felt himself flushing like mad, his face looking like a tomato, skin heating bad as the other boy leaned in against him. It was creepy and disgusting. 

“Move,” He said uselessly. The Slytherin was taller than Draco, even taller than Ron. He was strong too and Ron realised he really didn’t stand a chance as the dark-skinned boy only laughed when the redhead spoke. A terrifying, evil laugh, sending shivers to Ron’s body. He pressed himself harder against the door he was pinned to by strong hands. 

“And why should I, Weasley?” Blaise raised an amused eyebrow. “Not until you give me what I want.” 

“I don’t know what you want, you troll!” Ron raised his voice, finding his courage that had so conveniently gone into hiding. Dammit, he was a Gryffindor, he couldn’t let himself be bossed around by vicious snakes! He didn’t even know who this creepy guy was! Without a word more, he stomped hard on the other’s foot. 

Blaise cried out in pain at Ron’s sudden outrage but didn’t let himself be discouraged. Before the redhead could move at all, he took hold of Weasley’s jaw in a tight grip. He wore a rather nasty expression, Weasley was feisty, surely this was going to be fun. 

“You little shit,” He spat. “You know damn well what I want. But since you don’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed…I happen to know you shagged Draco Malfoy. And I also happen to know you’re a little fag, too. I’m simple. Let me have my way with you, as I said, or this information will be out for more ears than the Slytherin house.” 

The tall boy was so close to Ron, he could smell his breath. He didn’t want to admit it to himself even, but he was scared and he certainly didn’t want to do what he thought the other boy was saying. And _all of Slytherin?! All of Slytherin knew he was gay now?! _

Fuck, he wanted a way out of this! 

The redhead desperately tried to think and opted for kicking the other guy in his balls or something when the main doors suddenly swung open and Draco Malfoy, his black and green robes flying behind him like a cape, budged in as swiftly as only he could. 

“Zabini,” Malfoy said in a voice darker than Ron had ever heard him use before, pointing to the dark-skinned boy with his wand, “Haven’t I told you a _million _times not to play with my toys?” 

**  
**


	12. Do as I say

“Dray…” Blaise drawled, shooting the Malfoy an amused glance. He still had his hand on Ron’s shoulder and the redhead’s wide shocked eyes went from one Slytherin to the other. He grinned maliciously. _Draco really was obsessed. _

“Indeed,” Malfoy replied, tilting his head. “Now drop him, will you? Or do you wish me to hex your penis off?” He still held the Zabini boy at wand point and drew it threateningly across the boy’s jaw. 

Blaise swallowed hard at the threat, loosening his firm grip on the redhead’s shoulder. But not by any means did he want to give in just yet. 

“You’ve got problems Draco,” he said coolly. “Shouldn’t we let Weasley here know what you said about him back in the common room, eh?” He nodded to the unfortunate Gryffindor whose mind whirled around the words, really did not know whether or not he should be grateful Malfoy was here. “About how _boring _he’d been for you. Now since he left so very interesting bruises on your neck, I for one believe he’s more than what you let on…” Blaise turned back to Ron again, eyeing him with the same hungry eyes as before. “Or…” He continued slyly, “Should we let Weasel know _why _you shagged him in the first place?” 

Ron was sure he’d now seen it all. He wondered momentarily if he was dreaming- Was Malfoy and the other one _fighting _over him? And what the bloody hell did it mean what they were saying?! And yeah, he would damn well want answers to all of this! 

That was why before Draco could respond- Ron already opened his mouth. Suddenly he forgot being scared and apparently forgot his voice of reason too that warned him doing so in this very situation might not be the brightest idea. 

“Hey!” He yelled fiercely at Blaise with renewed bravery. “Get off me you prat! And you!” He turned to Malfoy now, “I- _Shut up_ Malfoy!” Ron’s ears went rather red and he let out a little cough as his final retort. 

_Yeah, this went well. _

Draco snorted at the defiant redhead’s silly attempt at scolding them both. As moody as Weasley was and as angry he could get- he was sure a little _chicken _too. He wondered how on _earth _Potter put up with him. Sure enough, he probably hid in Potter’s boxers the whole time they fought the Dark Lord and whatnot. 

“See?” He drawled, ice-grey irises boring into chocolate eyes. He lowered the wand, poking it hard into Zabini’s chest instead. “As entertaining as that was- it looks like he doesn’t want you. My threat still remains, by the way.” 

Blaise’s dark eyes flickered for a moment as a new, more amusing idea struck his mind. Maybe he wouldn’t get Ron’s freckled, poor arse today- but sure enough, he was getting _something _out of this. 

“Fine, I guess you can have your little _boyfriend _back,” He scoffed. “On one condition.” 

“_Boyfriend?!” _Ron squawked in horror out of nowhere. “He’s not my--” 

Blaise patted Ron on the cheek with his large hand before letting go. “No, of course he isn’t.” The Slytherin said in a voice that clearly indicated the opposite. 

Draco let out an annoyed sigh. “What is it now Zabini? Make it fast will you? I don’t want to be in this dire situation _all evening _you know.” 

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t so enamoured, Malfoy,” Blaise retorted poisonously. “Could’ve stayed in the common room like a good little Slytherin.” 

“I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t such a jealous little prick,” Draco said calmly, crossing his slender arms over his chest. “Now, whatever could you possibly want out of this unpleasant situation?” 

Blaise grinned evilly. “Kiss him,” He said simply. “While I watch.” 

_‘I’m in hell,’ _Ron thought helplessly. He stared at Malfoy as if the blond would help him somehow. Surely Malfoy wouldn’t agree on this. Right? He couldn’t possibly want to do this. Why couldn’t he just hex his housemate already and be over and done with?! 

He was certain when he caved under the Slytherin a week ago he had made a deal with the devil. 

Draco scoffed. “And what if I don’t?” 

“I’ll tell everyone about Weasley,” Blaise drawled firmly. “And you.” 

“NO!” Ron screamed anxiously. The mere thought of having the whole castle know he had slept with DRACO MALFOY was unbearable. But he didn’t want to give the bloody Zabini or whatever his name was the satisfaction of getting what he wanted out of this. 

Both Slytherins glanced at the flustered and red Gryffindor rather smugly. 

The Malfoy heir tilted his head, watching as Weasley raised his voice so much it almost broke at the end. _Well… _

“Scared, Weasley?” Draco challenged. “Come on, nothing we haven’t done before.” He winked at him. 

Blaise stepped back, taking in the scene with slow inhales and exhales through his nose. _This was interesting… _

“Do it,” He commanded. 

Draco stepped forward as the other Slytherin stepped back. He couldn’t help his skin tingled as he got closer to the redhead and Weasley was so goddamn cute when he floundered like that. He was cute when he was angry too. And happy. And… The blond sensed a theme here… 

So maybe his attraction to the stupid little git wasn’t gone. 

Ron should have run away. Protested wildly _at least. _But his feet were stuck to the floor. His voice gone. And it was the two Slytherins fault. 

They made him do things he didn’t want to. 

So when Malfoy’s hands softly stroke his sides it was their fault he didn’t move away. It was their fault he didn’t punch the lights out of Malfoy and it was completely their fault he only gasped when Malfoy without a warning pressed his whole frame against him and clashed their lips together as if their lives depended on it. It was their fault his heart raced so much it almost hurt when Malfoy’s tongue found its way into his mouth and their fault he willingly let him to. It was their fault he closed his eyes and breathed a moan when the Malfoy heir’s hands moved through his thick hair and pulled at it. His own sweaty hands somehow managed to snake around the smaller young man’s back, squeezing the fabric of his robes into his palms. 

Yeah, definitely their fault. 

Blue eyes snapped open again as Malfoy broke off the kiss almost as fast as he had started it. A thin tether of saliva hung between their lips for a moment. Ron could only gape as the Slytherin smiled, not quite as viciously as he otherwise did, his ice eyes bore into his. 

“Gods, you’re easy,” he drawled lazily before backing away. “Come on, Zabini, move your horny arse so we can get back to the common room already.” 

Blaise seemed all too pleased and smug as he, with a last look at Ron, followed Draco out through the main doors.


	13. All the wrong sorts of feelings

When Ron Weasley walked into the boys dorm that night after the feverish kiss with Malfoy in the bathroom in front of Blaise’s starving eyes- he was in some sort of daze and his movements slow and robotic. His mind wiped clean and he sucked in his bottom lip as if he still could taste it.

Worried green eyes stared at him while Seamus, Dean and Neville instead looked at him with curiosity.

“You look pale,” Harry said as Ron flopped down heavily onto the edge of his bed.

Ron blinked. “Sorry?”

“Pale,” Dean filled in, pulling his sweater over his head. “You’re pale, Weasley.”

_Pale. _

“Is something wrong?” Harry pressed on. “Something’s got to be wrong.”

Ron didn’t answer. He tipped backwards against the soft bedspread, his feet still on the floor. He loosened his tie and took it off- somehow it felt like he suddenly couldn’t breathe if he kept that bloody thing on. His arms flopped over his head, causing his untucked shirt to move upwards a bit and reveal a bit of pink-pale skin.

“Ron?” Harry’s voice again.

“Hm?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No… You’re right,” Ron heard himself say in a sort of airily tone. “I am pale. _Very _pale actually…”

Harry exchanged confused glances with the others. Seamus took a few steps forward so he could see Ron’s face, unable to stop himself and a moment later his expression transformed into a huge smile.

“Oh, I know that look.”

“What?” Harry was really concerned, was Ron sick or…

Seamus glanced at Dean who caught on rather quickly. Both of them turned to Harry and almost burst out laughing when they saw the bewildered look on the boy’s face.

“Really, Harry?” Dean cocked his head. “You out of _all _people should know _that _look.” He nodded in Ron’s direction.

It wasn’t until Ron managed a feeble “Oh, shut up…” everyone finally settled in their beds. Except for Ron, who remained in the same position, his mind reeling over words like pale.

Yeah, he was rather pale, wasn’t he? It wasn’t even a good pale. It was easily flushing, pink-pale skin peppered with a zillion freckles.

Malfoy was translucent pale. Vampire pale. He never had pink cheeks. And he never flushed. Not even when he did embarrassing things.

And Ron hated him.

He really did.

“Always gotta make a show out of it, don’t you?” Blaise said.

Draco snorted. “Well… We Malfoys do everything dramatically. But be warned; if you don’t keep your filthy hands off of Weasley, I’ll hex you for real.”

Blaise’s eyes sparkled in the dim light of their dorm. “You sleep with the guy one time and suddenly you act all infatuated. Really, Draco you amaze me.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I hardly would—”

The Zabini boy pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. “Look…I may not be Salazar’s best student and I love a challenge and shagging as much as anyone but have you actually tried telling Weasley how you feel? As I said before, you have problems. According to Pansy you’ve been drooling over him even before we brought up the stupid dare.”

Draco’s face was emotionless. “Pansy talk too much,” He said simply. “She doesn’t know what she’s on about half the time.”

Blaise shook his head. “Either you tell him or somebody else will snatch him away. Hell, it might as well be me.” He flashed his white teeth, grinning. “Threaten me all you want then. We all know I’m the devil incarnated.”

_‘Pansy’s full of shit.’ _Draco thought, lying down in his four-poster bed. He could admit Weasley was cute. He had admitted that a few times in his head. He was, in some unexplainable way. But that was all there was to it.

Stupid, freckled, shoddy, male, _cute _Ron Weasley.

Saturday came around. Hogwarts was decked out in Valentine’s day décor. Heart-shaped pink and red balloons, red hearts on strings hanging from the ceilings, fluffy pink, white and red _fucking _everything. Girls were giggling, boys blushing, excitement filled the air. Students from the guest schools Durmstrangs and Beauxbatons came back and Hermione and Viktor was nowhere to be seen the minute they arrived. 

Ron almost walked into Fleur Delacour in the hallways and had to look away with all strength it took when her dark blue eyes bore into him. _Damn, curse that veela effect the girl had on him. _He was positive he was gay, but even _he _had to admit she was nice-looking. Even _he _could go liquid and forget everything in her presence. Not as much as other boys at the school, he noticed, but a little anyway. He reckoned it had something to do with being an emotional being or some rubbish. He’d read that somewhere, hadn’t he? Or was it Hermione that had told him that? The emotional part. Eh, didn’t matter.

Apparently Harry was affected too- causing Ginny to smack him in the head at breakfast.

Today was also the dreaded Valentine’s day ball and once Harry had snapped back to reality, sheepishly shooting Ginny a grin as if that would soothe her look of disapproval (which honestly to Ron was the best expression she could give Harry), he turned his attention to Ron.

“So, you’ve got a big date today,” He stated offhandedly, smiling over his breakfast plate.

Ron, whose mind seemed to whirl around different blonds he knew, wasn’t listening to Harry’s words. He was busy comparing shades in his head. Fleur had some sort of silvery hair, light and… silver. But Draco’s hair was silver too but it was like a _different _kind of silver. Like silver blond… How many different hues could silver have? Was Malfoy’s hair lighter than Fleur’s or darker… His eyes were silver too, that was interesting. He was suddenly _very _interested in everything silver. Why were they writing essays about stupid potions no one cared about or history of magic or other rubbish things when they could write essays about silver?! It was a brilliant idea! He had _a lot _to say in the matter.

“Ron!”

Fingers snapped before his eyes and he winced, realising he had put his arm in the butter. Both Ginny and Harry looked at him.

“What?!”

“He’s hopeless,” Ginny said, shooting Harry a significative look. “If he doesn’t get thoroughly snogged tonight, I don’t know what’s what—”

“Shut up, Ginny!” Ron hissed angrily when Harry started to laugh.

All day, everyone was incredibly giggly and rather infuriating. _Especially _Ginny and Harry. They looked like they had some kind of big secret and Ron scowled at them which only seemed to excite them more. Since Ron hadn’t paid attention to what Harry was saying by the breakfast table and had since the encounter with Malfoy forgotten almost all about his supposed attendance at the Valentine’s ball, he remained confused to their giggles and stares. Even Hermione seemed to know what’s going on and as she walked by them during the day with Viktor holding her arm (_fucking Viktor_) she too stated in her matter-of-fact-voice that this probably was going to be good for Ron.

It wasn’t until Harry lent him his Yule ball robes, mumbling something about Hermione putting a spell on it so it would fit Ron, that Ron blinked, suddenly remembering the date Harry had got him.

“Harry, I don’t think this is a good idea,” He muttered, holding the black robes at an arm’s length as if it could bite him. Maybe he should just come clean. It was about bloody time, wasn’t it?

How does one tell something like that? _‘Hey Harry, old chap… Guess what? I’m ga—’ _

“You’re gonna be fine, Ron!” Harry exclaimed brightly, adjusting his spectacles. “Now put those on, I don’t want to keep Ginny waiting. Now, how do I look?” He ran a hand nervously through his dark hair.

“Like a prat.” Ron puffed his cheeks, momentarily causing the front of his ginger hair to fly upwards.

About thirty minutes later- he stared into another set of pale silvery eyes belonging to a short girl with endlessly long dirty-blond hair.

_Loony Lovegood? No, Luna! _He corrected himself.

Ron knew Luna fairly well, even though he rarely spent any time with her. She was friends with Ginny and all of them really. But he’d never suspected Harry would ask her to go with Ron or for that matter, that she would agree. Yet, here she was, standing before him in a screamingly intense yellow dress, her thick long hair hanging around her small frame like some kind of cape flowing out of her head and wearing a smile so sweet it’d definitely send shivers down anyone’s spine or make butterflies go crazy in somebody’s stomach. Ron thought she was probably considered pretty in a sort of odd way but she was _insane. _How the hell would Harry expect Ron to spend an entire evening with her? And what had Ginny said about snogging? Did they really…

“Hello, Ronald,” She said cheerfully in her trademark dreamy voice, interrupting Ron’s train of thoughts and he realised he had probably stared at her a little more than he should. “You look nice.”

“Er…Thanks,” He mumbled, ears going red. “So do you,” he added quickly, forcing a smile as Ginny nudged him painfully hard in the ribs.

“Have fun,” Harry smirked, taking Ginny by the hand as they both disappeared into the Great Hall where loud music, flashing lights and dancing awaited them, leaving Ron and Luna standing awkwardly in the dimly lit hallway. A ray of bright light shone down on Luna’s hair. It looked nice and he wondered if he should compliment her on that. Was that weird? How does one talk to girls? Hermione and Ginny were one thing, Hermione was like a sister and Ginny was, well, she was his sister. This was a really bad idea.

“Er… You don’t have to do this, y’know?” He said to her instead, awkwardly stroking his left arm. “You don’t have to… be nice because Harry told you to. I don’t really, I mean—”

Luna had been looking off to the side, but she turned to him and smiled. “It’s okay. I don’t mind spending time with you Ronald.”

“You don’t?!” He blurted out.

She shook her head. “Not at all. Would you like to go inside?”

_‘No’, _Ron thought, but his mouth said, “Yeah, sure.”

“Darling, are you sure you don’t want to come? Just for a bit?” Pansy put on dark red lipstick, pouting her lips to the tiny mirror she was holding in her hand. Draco sat in an armchair in the common room in the dungeons.

“No,” He drawled. “I’m fine Pansy.” He held up a bottle of Firewhisky to her to show just _exactly _how fine he was going to be. Naturally, such liquids were not allowed within the school, although the Slytherins had managed to sneak it inside lots of times. Draco intended to get smashed. He needed an escape from his head. No particular (Ron Weasley) reason, he just did.

Pansy sighed.

“Well, if you say so… Now, how do I look?” She straightened the rather short little red dress she was wearing, eyeing him for some sort of approval.

“Like a goddess,” Draco lied, taking a swig out of the bottle. It burned down his throat, but damn it was worth it. He wondered how much he would need to drink for someone like Pansy to become attractive to him. As Blaise came out from the boys dorm wearing his most expensive black form-fitted robes, the Malfoy heir waved them off absentmindedly with his hand. He wasn’t in the mood for looking at their faces more than he needed to. Both of them glanced at him peculiarly before heading for the party.

He took another swig and then another.

“I’m not enamoured with anyone,” He said aloud in the empty silence. He quite enjoyed the burning sensation building up in his body and longed for that warm, numb feeling of being completely intoxicated. It couldn’t come quick enough if it tried.


	14. Truths

The Valentine’s ball was almost _exactly _like the Yule ball had been. The only difference was that Harry now wasn’t sitting beside Ron. He was busy dancing away with Ginny, spinning her so much on the dance floor she burst out laughing. 

Somebody had made enchanted snow falling from the ceiling and Ron saw a couple of students standing in a dark corner- emptying a peculiar liquid from tiny, dark bottles into their punch. He twirled his own glass in his hand, suddenly wishing he could get some of that liquid too.

They were seated around one of the circular tables that somebody had thrown a light pink tablecloth over and Ron had been eating way too much of those heart-shaped chocolates they had put at the tables. 

Ron chanced a glance at Luna and chewed on his bottom lip. Since they got here two hours ago, he had barely said a word to her. Let alone looked at her. Yet, she did not seem angry about it. She didn’t glare at him, she didn’t try to talk to him, she left him alone. Her eyes were closed and she seemed like she had entered a world entirely of her own, her head swaying a little to the sound of the slow music that appeared out through the magical speakers. 

“Sorry we’re not dancing,” Ron finally said, just to say something. “I’m not much for…” Luna’s eyes were still closed and she didn’t respond right away. Several minutes passed and the redhead opened his mouth to repeat the phrase in case she hadn’t heard him, but Luna suddenly spoke; 

“That’s all right, I don’t mind. I’m not very good at it, either.” 

The small confession from her was so honest it made Ron’s lips form into a small smile. 

“Well, that’s a first… Most girls seem to really like that.” It was something so calming with watching her. Made him feel less nervous and a little less awkward. Maybe it was because she wasn’t expecting anything. She just… were. Ron decided quickly he liked that about her. Or rather, appreciated it. 

“Why do you have your eyes closed?” He asked, too curious not to. Waiting a short moment, he dared joke with her. “Is it because you find these stupid decorations ugly too?” 

Luna smiled, opening her eyes as the song faded away and was replaced with a new one, more fast-pacing. "The music was beautiful!" She said happily and with so much emotion in her face tears almost spilt over in her pale eyes. They had been listening to something entirely instrumental and Ron had barely heard a thing. "I especially enjoyed the piano at the end."

“Yeah, I suppose,” He shrugged. Looking across the room, he spotted Ginny shooting him a murderous look that told _‘If you’re not making a move I swear--’ _and Ron met her eyes with an equal angry stare. He hated how they made him feel so… judged. If they all hadn’t been so bloody busy with all this damn kissing and Merlin knows what else they did- everything could’ve been normal, like it always had been. If Hermione hadn’t gotten involved with Viktor, Ron wouldn’t have to be so damn jealous. 

It was their fault. 

Then there was Malfoy. Malfoy who was nowhere to be seen. Not that Ron had looked around or anything, but he wasn’t here and somehow it made him oddly disappointed. Luna patted him on the arm after yet another long silence. 

“You don’t really want to be here, do you, Ronald?” She asked in that dreamy voice of hers and for a moment Ron stared at her both dumbly and a little embarrassed. Like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. 

“Er… No,” He uttered honestly. He wasn’t certain, but Luna looked like the type of girl who could notice when someone lied. And Ron wasn’t even a good liar. The infamous Weasley-skin gave too much away. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to. Would you mind walking me out, Ronald? I’m pretty tired, actually.” 

Relieved something was happening (and he hoped Ginny saw this so she’d shut up and wouldn’t be annoying him tomorrow) he nodded, got up to his feet and let Luna take his arm. 

“Something’s bothering you,” She said airily as the gigantic doors closed behind them. “It’s not good to be going around with your heart so filled with trouble. You’ll attract wrackspurts and then they’ll make your brain go fuzzy.” 

Ron frowned. He had somehow during the evening forgotten about Luna’s weird fascination with stuff that was clearly made-up and he wasn't in the mood for hearing about them. He bit back the sudden urge of saying that he didn't care about the stupid pretend-animals she claimed to see everywhere (he had a faint memory of her wearing a homemade butterbeer cork necklace during Christmas and she had claimed to everyone willing to listen that it kept away the nargles, whatever those were) and he didn’t want her to dig around in his head. 

"What makes you think that?" Ron's tone had turned sharp without him realising it as they walked up the stairs and the words came out more like an accusation rather than a question. Luna though, seemed unfazed by the sudden change and walked slowly beside him, before she leant down and took off the shoes she'd been wearing to walk barefoot instead.

“You’re not smiling with your eyes. People smile with their eyes when they’re happy,” She explained, looking up to meet his blue with her silver. “I’ve noticed a change in you, Ronald. For a long time, actually. You used to smile a lot more before. And you always said funny things…” She smiled a small little smile, looking off to the side again. 

“Yeah… I mean… Yeah, I guess I haven’t been so happy lately,” Ron mumbled, feeling his face turn tomato. 

“I’m always the odd one out, y’know,” He continued reluctantly as they walked. He couldn’t believe he was taking life counselling from Loony Lovegood. But since he’d done a lot of things lately he never thought he would do ever, maybe he should give up questioning things. The calm, stress-free aura she seemed to have around her made Ron feel tonight like he could say things easily, not thinking about it at all. “In my family… With Harry and Hermione… I just feel--” 

A sound disturbing the silence broke him off mid-sentence. A loud thud was heard quickly followed by someone cursing. Ron’s head turned in the direction where it had come from. 

He knew that voice. 

Ron turned back to Luna. “Er… Would you be okay if--” 

“Goodnight Ronald,” She said in her dreamy voice. “I do hope you’ll find your happiness soon.” Carrying her shoes in her left hand, she walked away in the opposite direction and Ron could’ve sworn he heard her humming the melody of _‘Weasley is our king’. _

That stupid song Malfoy had made up and happily sung along with the rest of the Slytherins. Ron had to bite the inside of his own cheek to prevent himself from starting to cry the first time he heard it. It didn't matter the Gryffindors had after a couple of times tweaked the lyrics so it would be something positive instead, deep inside he still remembered and still only heard Malfoy's verses. Still only heard Malfoy's annoying voice.

A voice that was all too familiar now. Imprinted in his skin. 

_“Bollocks!” _

Everything was hazy. His mind addled, thoughts drifting on and off as he stared up the ceiling. Damn, this carpet was wonderful. It felt bloody magical. Draco Malfoy could sleep here. 

Downing a whole bottle of firewhisky in one go wasn’t a very smart move. Leaving the Slytherin dungeons and wandering off was definitely not his brightest choice in life. He had tripped somewhere and landed on this amazing rug or carpet- the fuck it was… And now whenever he tried to get up to his feet, they wouldn’t move. He’d just topple over again. 

“Very well then. I shall sleep here,” Draco mumbled happily. No matter how drunk, he still remained so upper-class English his coherent and fine speaking was on point. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” A voice and strong arms soon got Draco up off the floor. The same set of arms turned him around, large, warm hands holding his shoulders. Blue anxious eyes met his glassy grey and Draco had to process a few seconds who it was. Blue eyes, freckles, red hair, was that Potter’s old clothes? Draco almost laughed aloud. Maybe he did- Weasley’s scowl was unreadable. 

“Weasley! You look like shit.” Yeah, that’ll teach him. 

The redhead’s eyes darted from Malfoy to further down the corridor and he mumbled something that to the Malfoy heir was inaudible. Ron took Draco’s wrist rather aggressively and started walking fast in the same direction he’d shown up in. 

“Dammit Weasley, your absolute imbecile! Release me at once your gigantic oaf!” Draco tried pulling his arm away, but was immediately silenced by a large hand clasping over his mouth. 

“Shut up!” The redhead hissed between gritted teeth. “Shut up or we’ll both be in trouble!” 

_Shit, _the stupid troll was probably right. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed Filch patrolling with that ghastly cat of his and Draco wasn’t about to find himself in detention for a month just because he wanted to get smashed. Weasley seemed to know where they were heading so he decided to follow along. The skin on his wrist tingled where Ron’s hand was. So maybe Draco didn’t mind being held by that freckled idiot. 

_“I fucking can’t believe you!” _Ron huffed as soon as he had managed to shove in that nasty little git inside the Room of requirement along with himself behind him. “If you’re gonna drink stay in the bloody common room! You’re damn lucky no one except me found you!” 

“Puh-leeeeze!” Draco slurred, swaying on the spot. “Everybody knows you Gryff-hin-dors absolutely li-hive! for to save the day! You just like to play hero, admit it… Oooh, bed!"

The room seemed to understand what Draco needed. Looking around, Ron noticed it contained the bed Draco had fallen backwards in and was now rolling happily around, heh, it was kinda cute actually… He shook his head. No! Don’t think about that. The room also had several remedies and potions, towels, buckets… A lot of stuff to fix the nasty hangover that most likely would come. 

Ron had never seen Draco drunk before and it was odd yet somewhat entertaining to see him let loose like that. He was babbling randomly, stroking the sheets, his long blond fringe hung over one eye, the rest of his hair in disarray and he even had a pink tint on his cheeks. Sure, Ron, Dean, Neville, Seamus and Harry sometimes drank in the Gryffindor tower in their dorm, sneaking in liquor they got hold of, just a bit of lighthearted fun… But Ron was sure none of them had ever gotten _this _drunk.

He wondered if he should be worried. 

“Er, well…” Ron said, scratching his head and trying to look everywhere else but on Draco. “I guess you have everything sorted in here then. You should probably go to sleep. Reckon your head hurts like hell in the morning but something in here should probably help. This room knows everything, doesn’t it? Don’t try to leave- I wouldn’t.” He managed a faint smile and began walking towards the doors. 

Draco, who now had been jumping around on the soft mattress suddenly went petulant.

“What! You’re not leaving are you?” 

“Malfoy... “ Ron managed with a heavy sigh. “I need to go back to my own dorm. I need to sleep, too.” His felt his cheeks and ears heat again. “I-I’ll check on you in the morning, okay?” 

Draco fell backwards on the mattress again, arms floppily over his head. “Wheeezely, no, I’m not a baby!” He complained. 

Ron snorted. “Course you’re not. You’re just whiny like one.” 

“I don’t want to be alone…” Draco muttered under his breath so low Ron almost didn’t hear him. He felt awkward where he stood and Merlin, these clothes were warm and uncomfortable. His pulse thudded loudly against his temples and he stroke the back of his neck nervously. He _should _leave- that was the proper thing to do but Malfoy was also not… quite himself and leaving him in this state would probably not be… Very good at all, would it? 

“I suppose I could stay for a while longer…” He mumbled, awkwardly sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Malfoy. He wrung his hands in his lap, not quite sure on what to do. 

“H-How are you holding up, Malfoy?” Ron’s voice almost cracked as he tried to sound normal. Malfoy sat up, staring at him intently with his drunken eyes. 

”How are you holding up Malfoy?” He mocked in a high-pitched tone, suddenly angry. ”You know, I don’t even know what’s going on with you anymore.” Ron winced, Draco’s voice sounded strangely sober, yet his gaze was still not quite focused. “You’re such a wimp! Where’s that _passionate _anger I know you have, huh?! Why aren’t you fighting me!” 

Ron blinked. “What are you--” 

But Draco didn’t stop there. He had worked himself up, suddenly livid. 

“Ever since we fucked in that classroom, I kissed you in front of Blaise… You don’t even react, you clod! Why haven’t you tried to murder me like you used to?! I’m treating you like fucking crap, Weasel! And not only that! You let Potter boss you around as well! Admit you went to that ghastly ball just because he told you to, didn’t he?!” 

When Ron didn't say anything right away, Draco prodded a pale finger deep into his chest. "Well, didn't he?!"

“What the hell are you on about!” Ron shouted now, snapping Malfoy’s hand away. He was taken aback by Draco’s sudden outbreak. He faced him, fuming. “How’d you expect me to react, you idiot! We’ve always been fighting, Malfoy, don’t you think it’s rather strange… You came onto me!” He bit out dumbly. “_You _took advantage of _me!” _

"Yeah, and you certainly did not complain!" Snapped Draco between clenched teeth.

The redhead took a deep breath, trying to let the anger building up wash off him. Malfoy was drunk, he babbled… He shouldn’t let himself get caught in this web. He dropped his gaze, staring at the floor. 

“If you want to talk... We can do that in the morning. When you’re not drunk anymore. You need to sleep.” 

“No!” Growled the Slytherin, his face just inches away from Ron’s. He could feel the distinct smell of firewhisky on his breath. “Dammit Weasel, we’re talking _now!” _

“Cause if we wait…” Draco continued muttering, more to himself than to Ron but still loud enough for the redhead to hear, “I might not be as brave anymore. But you! You don’t have an excuse! You’re a bloody Gryffindor! Yet you’re the most skittish and insecure one I’ve ever seen. You _never _stand up for yourself! Except when you’re riled up enough, then you’re a fucking beast! That’s what I like about you. That’s what I’ve always liked about you.” 

The minute those words escaped Draco’s lips, he turned around before he could see Ron’s reaction and widened the distance between them with his back facing the redhead. He was dizzy, he was nauseous, his mouth completely dry. He wanted to run away or spread wings and fly or vomit or pass out or-- 

He hadn’t intended to say anything. But then again, leaving the bloody dungeons to go and try to look for the Gryffindor-bastard had seemed like a brilliant idea earlier tonight. The more firewhisky he’d poured down his throat, the more courage had been building up and then Draco realised that he couldn’t deny it even if he tried. 

No matter how many girls he’d bedded, no matter how much he tried to fight it and forget… It had always been Ron. 

And he hated him. Hated him for _weaselling _himself under his skin. 

Everything was too damn silent. 

“You know… I’ve never told anyone I’m gay,” Ron said at last, his voice stubborn and dark. “But you. You figured it out, didn’t you? I’d like to know how.” 

Draco couldn’t help himself to a tiny smirk even though Ron couldn’t see it. “It was obvious you idiot. You shouldn’t carry pictures of Krum inside your books, let alone look at them out in the open.” 

“Hey! I was very sneaky about that. Nobody ever saw me.” Ron chewed on his chapped lip. “Except for you apparently.” 

The Malfoy heir snorted. A moment later, he heard the heavy footfalls of Ron’s shoes against the stone floor and he closed his eyes as the burning sensation of Ron’s bright blue eyes bore into the back of his neck. 

“I’ve been confused…” Ron continued slowly, warily. “Ever since you know, between us, I’ve been confused. And scared shitless you’d go ‘round and tell everyone about me before I was able to myself. But then I reckoned you wouldn’t because then everyone would… you know… About you too.” 

“Please, I’m not gay.” 

It was that moment Ron grabbed Draco’s shoulders and turned him around so they were seeing eye to eye. 

“Right. You just said you like me. Coming from you- that’s so _gay._ Not to mention your interest in fashion and you bloody hang around with someone called Pansy. I’m surprised you’re not out and about already.” He actually laughed now and Draco frowned. 

“Fuck you, Weasley. And I’ve never said I like you, you absolute--” 

Ron grabbed Malfoy by his shirt collar, pulling him so close their noses touched. 

“Shut. It.” 

And then Draco Malfoy's brain short-circuited as Ron Weasley's lips touched his. The kiss was sweeter than any other they had had before, warmer and more honest, too. The Slytherin's skin prickled with want. Want and something entirely affectionate he'd never felt before in his entire life and it felt absolutely brilliant and his stomach stirred and he wondered what this all meant, what Ron felt, if he took advantage of this dire situation since Draco had been treating him like crap all his life and he was certain Father would kill him or disown him or both if he’d ever find out who Draco was and… 

Ron barely had time to pull away before Malfoy puked his guts out on his worn-out trainers. 


	15. Realisations

_The hell?_

The smell was unbearable and invaded Ron’s nostrils faster than he would’ve liked. 

“You… You threw up on me!” Ron made a disgusted face, looking helplessly down on his shoes. He _only _had one pair! How was he supposed to get rid of the vomit?! He must’ve said it out loud because Malfoy frowned and pulled out the wand he apparently had in his pocket. 

“Weasley I swear…” He grumbled, rubbing his temple weakly before cleaning Ron up with the flick of his wand. In a matter of seconds, the puke was gone and the horrid smell with it. Ron’s shoes looked as though nothing had ever happened. “All gone. Although I hardly believe they look any better now. Who the hell wears _trainers _with fancy robes anyway? At least your shoddy shoes had some class with my vomit all over them.” 

“Right,” Ron said irritably, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. Malfoy still managed to be a giant prick. Why had he even considered-- 

Never mind. 

Draco slumped down on the soft bed. His lips still tingled from the touch from Weasley’s lips. Was he so far gone or had Ron _actually wanted _to kiss him? And fuck, he had babbled… 

“I should sleep it off,” He mumbled and Ron nodded so frantically his head almost flew off in the process. According to Ron, it was the smartest bloody thing Draco had said all night. 

“You should,” The redhead spoke, fidgeting. “I should go.” To prove he was _really _walking this time, Ron began walking towards the doors. 

“Or you can sleep here too.” Draco’s voice from the bed. The invite sounded a little shy but he laced it with a certain coolness in his voice, so it sounded more bored and like he did not really care, hoping Weasley wouldn’t hear how tiny and almost _pleading _his voice sounded and how he felt, really. 

“Malfoy…” Ron didn’t know what to do with his hands. They were too sweaty and no position looked casual enough as he spun around at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. He couldn’t really look into the other boy’s eyes either, he was not that brave of a Gryffindor, so his own blue darted everywhere around the room, all while his hands were trying to find some sort of comfortable position and _why was this so weird? _It wasn’t like they hadn’t _done_ anything before… The classroom… He bit fiercely on his lip. 

“Weasley, it looks like you have some nervous fit of some sort, it isn’t attractive,” Draco drawled lazily, already lying underneath the covers. “I have a headache, this night is miserable and I reckon yours wasn’t too good either. If you sleep here I’m sure Potter’ll assume you bedded some girl and won’t bother you with it tomorrow.” Draco yawned, suddenly laughing dryly. “You should really tell him, Weasley.” 

Ron was sure Harry would be more curious if he didn’t show up in the dorm tonight, but his feet didn’t move away. He lingered awkwardly, watching as Malfoy sighed, turned around and drifted off. By this point, Ron was rather sleepy too. 

It was really late.

He really _should _go.

But someone _should _also watch over Malfoy. So he obliged to the Slytherin’s weird request, defending his decision with if he didn’t, Malfoy might wake up and do something stupid or throw up more or do something stupider. 

And Ron was nice. And loyal. So he stayed. He was definitely not thinking about how he rather spontaneously had kissed Malfoy before. 

He had most certainly not begun to think of Draco in ways like _that. _He had just wanted to _finally_ do what everybody else did. Kissing, touching, getting laid. So what if it was Malfoy it all had happened with? Ron couldn’t wrap his head around why the Slytherin had wanted that with him out of all people, but he really couldn’t complain. Malfoy was right- who else would’ve? If he hadn’t been ‘round, Ron would probably have been inexperienced forever. The mere thought made him scowl. 

And he kept telling himself, as he sat at the edge of Malfoy’s bed, that he definitely did not have feelings for him. 

Not even the slightest. 

Draco woke the next morning with a headache from the deepest levels of hell. When his grey eyes snapped open- he didn’t recognise his surroundings at first. This wasn’t his dorm… Then, as his eyes fell on the snoring boy down by his feet- memories from last night came to life in his mind and he groaned. His heart fluttered a little though- he didn’t think Weasley would actually _stay. _He had slept by the end of the bed, as far from Draco as possible, but he hadn’t left and well… 

Ron looked different asleep. Peaceful. Draco found himself staring. He slept on his back and one of his arms was above his head. Chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. 

Once again the Slytherin was hit with the intense pain. Draco was still somewhat dizzy and he crawled as gentle as he possibly could from the bed and looked through all the different potions the room offered. Surely something must be useful for curing the ghastly pain he felt. The mere sound of bottles clinking was almost too much for his sensitive ears and he hissed. It was unbearable. 

“Weasley…” Draco prodded his finger roughly into the other one’s chest. “Wake up!” He demanded, making a face at his aching head. 

“Hmm?” Ron mumbled, shifting restlessly. He was sleeping and didn’t want to wake up just yet. Not when everything was so pleasant and cosy and wonderful in dreamland… 

“Weasley, I’m serious. I need help.” Draco whispered fretfully, leaning down to breathe the hardest he could on Ron’s face. 

It woke the redhead immediately. 

“Uh, disgusting!” Ron growled, sitting up and despite the headache, Draco couldn’t help but snicker at the Gryffindor’s nauseated expression. He hadn’t brushed his teeth since before he vomited last night and it was entertaining it came in handy now. “What did you do that for?!” 

“I need you to find me a potion that’ll take the hangover off,” Draco mumbled, wasting no time. “I’m _dying_ over here, this headache is killing me.” 

Ron snorted, rubbing his face with his hands. “Of course you do. You know I should just leave you like this, serves you right. You are disgusting.” 

The Slytherin groaned. 

“I’ll help you if you say the magic word,” Ron teased, cocking his head. His eyes were sparkling and it was annoying. He was all cheery all of a sudden. It should be illegal. 

“Fuck you,” Draco grumbled. “Seriously.”

The redhead shrugged. “Nah. It wasn’t me that put you in this situation, now was it? Why should I help you?” 

“Weasley…” Draco sighed, defeated and too tired to argue. _“Please.” _He leaned his head against his knees that he’d positioned under his chin. He felt the other boy’s fingers pushing back silver tendrils of his silky hair that had fallen forward. 

“Was that so hard?” Looking up, the Malfoy heir realised the redhead was actually smiling at him and it was genuine and honest- the kind of smile he’d seen him give Potter and hell, even the Mudblood when things were better between them. Weasley had _never _smiled to Draco like that, he’d never smiled to him at all unless it was in a mocking manner. 

It was… odd. Not to mention how warm and comforting the caressing movements in his hair felt… He wondered why Weasley did that. 

However, he barely had time to muse over this before Ron stuck a small bottle in front of him. 

“Here. This should help.” 

“What is it?” Draco wanted to know, frowning at whatever substance that was inside. 

“I’ve no fucking clue,” Ron said laughing. “You’ll just have to try it and see.” 

It couldn’t be worse than it already was so Draco decided to drink it. 

He emptied it all. 

Ron’s body ached from sleeping uncomfortably. He hadn’t planned on dozing off but had done so anyway. It had been hard to keep his eyes open. Now, his body was sore and sweaty and he really, almost desperately wanted to get out of these clothes. They were almost driving him mad. Ron wasn’t used to new clothes. He missed the rough, worn-out fabric and the smell of attic, safety and _home. _

He gave Malfoy the potion and watched him down it all, making a face at the taste. 

”Does it help?” Ron wondered after a while when neither of them had said a thing. Draco looked like he was going to get sick again and the redhead reached worriedly for a bucket. Then Malfoy gave a feeble moan and his head fell against the soft pillow. Ron was beginning to start panic when he heard the Slytherin’s voice;

“The headache’s gone.” 

The redhead felt relieved. “Good.” 

“I’d like to sleep more though.” 

Ron nodded. “I need to go back to my dorm. Er… D’you want me to come back a little later?” He felt himself turn red. It was a bloody weird question, wasn’t it? He wasn’t supposed to ask that. “I m-mean to check on you.” He coughed, turning redder because of it. 

“I’m fine Weasley.” 

Ron nodded again. Right. So maybe Malfoy didn’t want him to come back. He was going back to his dorm and Malfoy would eventually make the way back to the dungeons again. Would they never talk about this? Pretend nothing’s ever happened? Did Malfoy really want that? Did Ron? 

Ron’s mind was spinning with a thousand questions all at once. As his hand pressed down the handle to the door, he heard Malfoy’s voice again, sleepy and mumbling. 

“Would be nice with food though.” 

The Gryffindor smiled. “Yeah, I’ll bring you some.” 

It was nice getting into his old clothes again. Ron buttoned his white shirt happily. They were not so stiff as Harry’s robes had been. 

By the breakfast table, he was nearly attacked to the floor with questions from Harry, Hermione and Ginny. 

“Where were you last night? You didn’t come to the dorms, mate!” 

“Ron, did you sleep with Lu-” (“Shut up, Ginny!”) 

“Honestly, Ron…” 

“D’you want to talk later?”

_Ron! Ron! Rooooooon! _

“NO, I DIDN’T SLEEP WITH LOONY LOVEGOOD!” Ron snarled so loudly he felt the whole Gryffindor table look at him as well as the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Turning redder than his hair, he shot Luna a worried look but her face showed no emotion to his little outburst. She didn’t even look his way. A few people snickered and Pansy Parkinson from the Slytherin table shouted; “Yeah, girls aren’t really your cup of tea, is it Weasley?” followed by some more laughter, especially from the Slytherins. Hermione, Harry and Ginny deliberately ignored the commentary to which Ron was thankful. He felt ashamed though for accidentally calling Luna ‘_Loony’ _so loudly, frustrated by the others’ curiosity. He decided he’d apologise to her later. She’d been so nice last night, she didn’t deserve that. 

He couldn’t be here. 

Harry looked at his best mate, puzzled. “So where were you then?” 

“Er… I was busy.” Ron replied. Best to keep it short and simple. Emptying his bowl of cereal faster than the speed of light, he then reached for a few things on the table; toast, pumpkin juice, cupcake… Anything he could get his hands on and shoved it into his pockets, not caring if it got messy. “Gotta go. See you later.” 

He ran. Ron was pretty good at running away instead of confronting his troubles. He could get really angry, especially when Draco Malfoy was around. But he wasn’t the _beast _Malfoy had claimed he was. He didn’t think so anyway, despite how riled up he could get. But then again, Malfoy thought he was skittish too. 

Maybe he didn’t belong in Gryffindor. 

Draco was actually up to let Ron back in the Room of requirement. 

“It’s all squashed,” He commented as Ron laid the food up on a nearby table. 

“Yeah, sorry it isn’t _perfect,” _the redhead spat. He slumped down in a chair, groaning. “I should’ve slept in the bloody dorm,” Ron muttered under his breath, his face in his hands. “Everyone wanted to know where I was last night. It’s your damn fault.” 

Malfoy smirked, taking a bite of his toast. “What did you tell them?” 

“Nothing. I screamed and then ran.” 

“Ah.” 

Ron narrowed his eyes. “What the hell do you want, Malfoy?” He said sulkily. 

Draco shot him a peculiar look. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Weasley.” 

The Gryffindor gaped. “Well, you must want something! As late as last night you told me you _liked _me!” 

“You _kissed _me!” Draco hissed angrily. “I was drunk, you don’t have any excuses, do you?!” 

“And you’ve never?! You weren’t drunk in the loo! And not to mention what you did in the class--” 

“I wasn’t the only one, was I? You were the one who told me to crawl on t--” 

“SHUT UP!” 

Ron got up to his feet, pacing back and forth across the floor. His heart was beating fast, mind racing. Everything was fucked up. 

Draco looked at him, eyes gleaming with amusement. He felt like he had the upper hand. If Ron worried, Draco didn’t have to acknowledge his own feelings. He pushed them away in favour of teasing the ginger instead. Weasley never stopped to amaze him with his rollercoaster-mood. One second angry, worried the next followed by being self-confident and teasing followed by something else, all in the span of a few minutes. Plus, he smirked to himself, Ron was rather adorable when he changed like that. 

“You know what your problem is, Weasley? You’re a coward.” Draco drawled matter-of-factly. “You’re afraid of your own shadow sometimes, I honestly don’t know how _Saint Potter _puts up with you.” He told himself he only got closer to Ron, who stopped pacing, because he figured it might freak him out. Not because he wanted to. Not really. 

“Are you even helping or are you just hiding behind Granger’s skirt all the time?” Draco asked. 

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Ron’s blue eyes were defiant. 

“That’s your go-to, isn’t it? When you don’t know what to say?” Grey eyes sparkled, they were standing almost chest to chest now. Draco’s mouth twitched in satisfaction. “I believe you have feelings for me, Weasley. You’re just afraid to show it.” 

“Y-you’re the o-one who have--” Ron stammered as Draco’s mouth, hot and teasing, reached his reddening ear. 

“I told you, Weasley, I was _drunk.” _His voice was merely a whisper and Ron’s knees softened. Draco bit his earlobe gently and nuzzled down his equally flushing neck. His pale hand ran over Ron’s thigh, squeezing his crotch. “Hmm, you like this, don’t you?” Draco practically purred and Ron whimpered. He was half-hard already and it wasn’t fair… Maybe he was easy. Draco’s seductive tone as he kept whispering into Ron’s ear was annoyingly arousing and he pulled at the light blond hair, desperate for that mouth to kiss him already. Malfoy didn’t. 

Draco pushed Ron down on the bed. “You know…” He said, intertwining his hands with the redhead’s and slowly pushing them down against the mattress, “We can keep doing this. Nobody has to know.” He then moved to unbuttoned Ron’s shirt, kissing down the soft skin, inhaling his scent. Ron swallowed hard, felt himself choke on nothing. “You’ll get experience for future boyfriends or Krum or whoever, I get to have some fun...” Draco murmured. “What do you say?”

“But you’re not gay?” Ron’s voice was hoarse and he barely got the words out. 

“What do you think?” Draco didn’t _really _want to answer this question. He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was or maybe he just really liked Ron. His mind reeled, it was hard to keep focus. Especially since the redhead let out soft moans and if he put his hand against his naked chest, he could feel his pulse rushing, heart beating madly. It was entertaining and also… 

The Gryffindor nodded. Draco was practically lying on top of him now and Ron’s hands moved to Draco’s silky hair again, fingers entangling in the soft tendrils. He pulled himself up, cupping Malfoy’s face in his hands. Ron sucked on Draco’s bottom lip, letting his tongue slip into the Slytherin’s mouth. 

“No strings attached…” The Malfoy heir breathed when the kiss broke, forcing his grey eyes to look into Ron’s azure ones. 

Ron nodded again. “Okay.” As Ron pushed Malfoy down on the bed along with himself, he didn’t think about whether this was right or wrong, whether he wanted this or not. Whether he had feelings or not. He didn’t think about that. What mattered in this very second was what felt good and if he needed Malfoy for feeling like that… Then so be it. 

Neither of them said anything about the flutters in their stomachs as buttons were unbuttoned, hands were exploring and trousers were pulled off. Ron didn’t say how much he’d started to enjoy touching the other boy’s skin, how it was all soft and felt brilliant under his fingers and Draco didn’t say anything about how he might -secretly- want Ron all to himself, he was just too afraid to say so. Ron carried his feelings on the outside. Draco didn’t. He stored them away and hoped nobody would find them ever. 

They panted, moaned, touched, kissed and licked and moments later Ron pressed his sweaty face against Malfoy’s neck and sighed happily, tired. The Slytherin didn’t have the heart to push him away and before being able to stop himself, he placed a tiny kiss on Ron’s forehead just where the vivid red hair began. 

Draco briefly wondered to himself before he fell asleep what the ‘great Harry Potter’ would say if he knew what Weasel was doing behind his back.


	16. Epilogue

“Well, that would require you catching me first, wouldn’t it?!” 

Three weeks later, the Slytherin ran, laughing evilly, holding Ron’s satchel in a firm grip. He was fast, but the redhead wasn’t bad and soon caught up. 

“You’re dead, Malfoy!” He roared, almost tackling the Malfoy heir into one of the dusty knight armours on the third floors. 

Draco smirked. Ron’s blue eyes gleamed. The Slytherin dropped the satchel on the floor beside them with a loud ‘thump’ before swiftly closing the small gap between them. 

“Isn’t this fun?” He drawled, tugging on the redhead’s Gryffindor tie, kissing him hard on the mouth after they both made sure they were all alone. 

“Mmm…” Ron chuckled, gathering fistfuls of Draco’s grey sweater in his hands, enjoying how the soft fabric felt against the palms of his hands while he placed tiny kisses on Draco’s jaw. They should keep running really, stay out from eyesight, but Ron couldn’t help himself, he just wanted to… Just one more. Malfoy really did not complain, snickering softly into Ron’s neck, not caring that this thing they did might be considered as _sappy. _

That’s why they didn’t notice the shocked pairs of eyes staring at them. 

“Ron? W-what’re you doing?” 

Harry’s voice and Ron froze in his place. It was the most unwelcome thing he’d ever heard. His hands still on Draco’s back, they had travelled south and was basically touching the Slytherin’s arse at this point. Ginny, Hermione and bloody Viktor Krum followed by Luna Lovegood stared at them, eyes widened and Ron wished the ground would swallow him whole. Ginny was paler than ever, Hermione’s expression somewhere between disapproval to something unknown, he didn’t dare look at Krum so he wouldn’t know what he looked like and Luna, expressionless, her silver eyes studying him intently. A small smile on her lips. 

Draco, who wasn’t as much frozen in place as the reddening Gryffindor, rolled his eyes as he tore himself away from Ron, drawling something about ‘Potter’, staring the lot down with a chilly expression, yet an amused smirk on his face. 

Ron looked constipated, he wanted to _die. _

And it was Luna, whom Ron still hadn’t apologised to, who was the first to break the long, awkward silence. Pushing her funny glasses she’d been wearing to the top of her head, she asked in her dreamy voice; 

“Did you find happiness, Ronald? I don’t think you have wrackspurts anymore.” 

THE END


End file.
